


Contrasts of Fate

by twin_pearls



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015), Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Action & Romance, F/M, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-26
Updated: 2018-04-22
Packaged: 2019-02-22 05:39:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 16
Words: 48,970
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13160427
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/twin_pearls/pseuds/twin_pearls
Summary: Directly post-episode VIII. Both the Resistance and the First Order are in shambles. The future of the galaxy stands in disarray. They know they are connected, their destinies intertwined, but how? They both feel the pull of the Dark and Light. It is only a matter of time before one of them falls.Eventual Kylo Ren/ Rey. Because apparently I'm into this fandom now.





	1. Aftershocks

They are running and she still feels him in her mind, still cannot shut out the dull ache in her head that reminds her that he’s close although they are now jumping star systems away. The pressure binds her to her seat, makes her knuckles curl and her fingers grip the edge of the armrest to the _Falcon_ and she thought this would be gone, that Snoke’s trickery would vanish when he was sliced in half, but of course she knew that was already false. How they fought together was not luck or finesse or skill. They are _connected_ and she does not know if that tether would ever snap. Her breath is still caught in her throat, adrenaline still, _pump, pump, pumping_ and Finn is then in front of her, eyes wide but a smooth smile on his face. “So you’re a Jedi now?”

The emotions come in dueling waves; she doesn’t know if she wants to laugh or sob, hug him again or run away screaming. Her brain is numb and so, so tired, and Finn swallows before deciding for her, dipping his body so that she feels his heart hammering firmly on her chest. “Master Luke is gone.”

She doesn’t know why this is what she says but it seems like the best answer. She is then sharply aware that they are not alone, not even close to being alone as people thrum and move around her, getting comfortable on the bridge, wondering how far away they are moving, if the First Order is behind them, if Luke Skywalker had really saved them all, if Rey…

Her own thoughts cover over the words. She focuses on the Force, and how different it feels, how empty. Her mind is searching for that one bright spot among the stars, and there is nothing and she feels her body bending, her arms go lax, and Finn is wiping something from her cheek. “Let’s get out of here.”

She doesn’t know where they’ll go. The _Falcon_ is filled and brimming with nervous energy, but she follows him down the hall, ignoring the stares and pats on the back except for an empty grin on her face.

“Are you okay?”

It’s a loaded question and her response is one-part defensive, one-part curious. “Who’s the girl?”

His gait becomes stilted, but Finn recovers quickly and types a code on the keypad. The door whirs open to reveal a room that is the size of a broom closet. She doesn’t mind. She sees the bed and wants to fall into it or, better yet, wake up from whatever dream this must be. _Master Luke is gone. Snoke is gone. Kylo…_

Kylo Ren is still very much alive.

She sits on the bed and Finn pulls over a chair so that they were across from each other. She pulls herself back so that her back is straight, flushed against the cold metal wall with her boots dangling barely off the edge, stock in front of Finn’s easy frame. “I feel like I shouldn’t be sitting.”

She understands the sensation all too well. It feels weird not running for her life, not navigating through the chaos of battle or being at the controls of one or two parts of this ship. And she knows she should feel grateful for this brief pause but her thoughts keep running and diving and sometimes she is too overwhelmed by the darkness, too blinded by the light. She needs a distraction. “That girl?”

“Rose?”

“Rose?” She echoes, and the smile on Finn’s face is small but everything she needs to know. “She’s with the Resistance?”

Finn nods and the crackle in his body dissipates and then floods back. He’s shaking his head and then his eyes catch her easily. “Rey, where have you been?”

He knows the answer, and she knows that is not the question he’s asking. She tries to keep her voice flat. “I was aboard the _Supremacy.”_

Finn waits. She waits. Her muscles tinge against the stark metal and the wave of exhaustion hits like blaster fire. She doesn’t know how to explain this, how to make it sound reasonable, rational, and she doesn’t think she can even if her brain weren’t fried and fading. Finn bites his lip before sliding next to her. The bed is small and her body flumes with the warmth of him. His hand rolls over the top of hers until the grooves of her fingers are filled with his and her chest settles as she remembers _this is Finn._ She does not need to make this sound reasonable or rational or anything except for the truth. And it spills from her.

“I’ve been seeing Kylo Ren.”

“Seeing?” His face quirks. “As in like with your eyes or…”

She doesn’t let him finish the thought. “Like visions only he can see me too. We can…communicate.”

He doesn’t say anything, and she has to wonder why this is what she starts with, not Luke denying help or Snoke bridging their minds or how she fell into the darkness and pushed and shoved her way out. Finn is a surprisingly patient listener or maybe it’s the shock value that’s causing him to be mute. His fingers are cold against hers but he doesn’t move. “Do you?”

“Not often. Not…purposely. It just _happens_. The first time, I was alone and then I could just sense him. He was there in front of me.” She exhales and sweat beads down her neck. It feels good, cathartic like sewing up a bloody wound, to tell her friend.  “I thought he was there to kill me.”

“He wasn’t?”

She’s shocked by the question though it’s perfectly reasonable. Why _wouldn’t_ he be? But he wasn’t. He was just as surprised as she was, equally confused by the presence in his mind, her image in front of him. “He didn’t expect it either.”

“Then how…”

“Snoke.” It’s an odd answer, and when she says it, it almost sounds like an excuse. She scavengers for the pieces in her mind, tries to make sense of them all, but it doesn’t work. It’s not fitting right, and every part of her is frustrated with it. “He bridged our minds, but I don’t understand how. I’ve never even met him before.” That thought should be scarier but she doesn’t feel it.

Finn is for her. His face reads aghast and then he’s suddenly leaning over her. Their hands break contact and his are on her shoulders. “His power is immense, Rey. Sorry, _was._ ”

“I know that.” She knows he’s trying to be helpful, explanatory. The frustration still bubbles in her. She has seen the Dark Side of the Force and it does not feel like her experiences with Ren. It does not feel like the cold, exploding darkness, the all-encompassing, almost choking embrace of night. Nor does it feel like the Light, the sun, the shell-shock glamor of white and brightness. The word almost escapes her until she feels the tug in her chest _,_ murmuring _balance_.

“Why did you go to him?”

There’s weight there too, but she ignores the other implication. She sees Finn barely believes it himself, but he’s just making sure, just checking if Rey is still Rey, and she is and she is not. He’s different too and how long had it actually been since they’ve seen each other? Months? Weeks? “I wanted to convert him.”

“To what?” He sniffs, head shaking. “You wanted to convince _Kylo Ren_ to join the Resistance?”

“I wanted to convince Ben Solo.” Her fingers run up and down her knees. “I know it sounds dumb but I saw things in his head, Finn. I saw light.” _And he saw darkness in me._ She thinks back to Snoke’s throne, the alien cut in half and bloody, red bodies of guards torn asunder by her and Ren. She thinks of his outstretched hand, the look in his eyes, and _yes_ , she wanted it too. She wanted all of this to stop but not by power or control or _want_. She is no deity to be worshiped, to reign over planets and people. She is _nobody_ , and the darkness still stirs in her.

“But you’re okay now.” Finn is convincing himself more than her. “Snoke is dead. Whatever bridge he must have…”

She’s shaking her head and he stops talking. The confusion is on his face now, but it vanishes, replaced by concern. “Can he see where you are?”

“No, just me.”

“Good.” He nods his head. “Does the General know?”’

“No.”

“Just me then?”

“I’d prefer to keep it that way, Finn.” She hasn’t thought about telling General Organa, and now that it’s there she feels guilty for it. “I can’t see where he is either. Or…choose when I want to talk to him. It just happens.”

“Do you think it will stop?”

 _No._ It cuts through her. She did not know when it started, nor is she sure when this will end, if it even could. _When he’s dead._ She clenches her fist at the thought. _When he’s dead I’ll never have to think of him again._

Her head slumps down until it is on Finn’s shoulder. He strokes her hair, pulling the brown strands behind her ears as she starts to focus on her breathing. She wants to meditate, to clear the thoughts from her mind completely, but Finn is too warm and meditating reminds her of Master Luke too much and soon she is crying. She cries against his shoulder, and Finn does not move or say a word.

 

Hours later they are still in hyperspace. Rey does not know where she is going, nor does she feel like she can move from the spot against the wall. Every ounce of her body is drained but she can’t find the calm to sleep. Everything is flashing in her head over and over and over again. Finn had left several minutes before to scrounge for food, and her stomach surges in anticipation. She hates feeling like this, paralyzed, overwhelmed. She moves to the floor and crosses her legs, exhales and tries to rest her shoulders. She closes her eyes and sees blackness, darkness, with spots of light simmering into nothing. She breathes again and sees a pale face and nose. She sees curled black hair and dark eyes, and then she is awake and anxious again. _He’s not here._ He is not even here through whatever bond formed between them. _I’m getting paranoid._ She moves back up and stands, does squats. Her body is sore but she persists. Her eyes carve around the room to see if there is anything she can rip apart, but the walls are simple, bare. There is only the bed, a chair, and a small dresser, so she opens the dresser and sees thin pieces of grey fabric inside. They are all too small for Finn.

The former Stormtrooper comes back, a piece of bread in one hand and a thick green liquid in another. He offers them both to Rey immediately, and she grabs it before reclining back down, cross-legged, gorging on the food.

“Slow down. There’s only one real bathroom on this thing. You can’t hog it with your indigestion.”

She immediately slows. Finn sits down next to her and she wipes the crumbs off her mouth with her forearm. “Are we going to land soon?”

Finn shrugs, but it’s tighter, less relaxed than his normal posturing. “You can ask General Organa. She asked me to come get you.”

“Come get me? When?”

“Um, I would say right now. She just caught me in the hallway outside. I’m told to bring you to her after you finish.” He picks up the cup with the green liquid and hands it to her. “I think this is supposed to be the nutritious bit of the meal.”

Rey raises an eyebrow. It bubbles and smells like dirt, but she chugs it anyway before she gets to start contemplating the taste. “Let’s go then.” She bounces up, ignoring the pain in her muscles now that she finally has a task, a purpose.

They walk to the bridge together. The _Falcon_ is quiet, and Rey wonders how off-cycle she is if this is the presumed night aboard the starship. On the bridge, Chewie is still flying the ship, Poe Dameron sleeping in the seat next to him. The General herself is seated at a small table, her hands folded, her breath desperately trying to stay even. She looks uncomfortable, and Rey opens herself up to the Force and slams the door back shut when Leia Organa looks at her, eyes narrowing. Rey is nervous then, but she holds her back straight and nods. “General Organa.”

She rises and holds out a hand to the chair across from her. “Rey, please sit. We haven’t had the chance to talk.” The bridge is empty besides the four of them, and soon Finn is also leaving when the General gives him a sharp look. “You look better, more rested.”

Rey doesn’t feel that way, but she nods in agreement. “Thank you, General Organa.”

“I’m sorry about my brother.”

The air restricts around her. That was not her apology to say. This woman sat so tall, shoulders proud, chin high, but Rey could see the dark circles tattooed on her pale skin, the wrinkles carved from worry around her mouth and forehead. _I am sorry about your brother, your husband, your son._ Leia Organa was terribly Force-sensitive, and there were points in time when Rey had wondered why she would ignore that part of herself, why she would choose the life of a senator and wife over the unchartered power of a Jedi Knight.

That isn’t confusing anymore.

Rey wants to grab her hand but she sits back in the chair instead. It takes everything just to maintain eye contact. “Master Luke saved us all.”

“You had a small part in that as well.” Her tone is sarcastic, a breath away from acerbic. “I wanted to thank you.”

“I wish I could do more.”

The General’s eyebrows rise as she realizes what she is implying and Rey does not move to correct herself or elaborate. It’s true, and her own smile quirks when Leia replies, “Maybe you can.”

“How?”

“I want to end this war.” She says as if she is explaining it to someone for the very first time, as if this is some hidden secret that could not get out. Leia realizes the jerk in her posture, the quake in her voice and continues, “The Resistance was founded to protect the New Republic from a reemergence of the Dark Side of the Force. The New Republic is gone but can be rebuilt. Snoke is dead.” Her palms fall flat on the table. She does not mention her son, and Rey does not move to speak. Leia drinks from a glass of water. “I felt my brother’s disillusionment with the Jedi teachings. He is…” She falters. “He was a powerful man.”

“The ways of the Jedi have not died with him.”

“Haven’t they?” Leia stops a laugh and flips her hand over. It takes Rey a few more moments to realize she is reaching out to her. She hesitates before moving her right hand on top of the General’s. There is a sharp intake of breath from both sides, and Rey stiffens. Her signature is powerful, bright, _familiar_ , and it leaves her gasping. Leia coils her other hand on top of Rey’s. “How many times have you met my son?”

“Twice.” _Physically._

Leia nods though her eyes are narrow. “Once he tortured you. The other he meant to turn you in to Snoke.”

“Yes.” Her voice is hard, rough.

“Once you resisted him. The other, you helped him kill Snoke.”

“Ben killed Snoke.” She regrets saying his name as soon as it leaves her mouth. The blood from Leia’s face is gone and she is ghost-white.

Her voice does not falter. “Do you know where he is?”

“No.” Her answer is honest.

“Can you feel him?”

She hesitates this time, curves her head to the door to search for Finn. She thinks he tattled or that Leia just simply _knows_ , but the General only smiles at her before retreating her hands back to her sides. “I can feel him too. I feel him deep in space somewhere, Rey. He’s there.”

“Sometimes it’s bright,” she murmurs and is unclear whether or not the sentence would shock Leia, but it doesn’t, of course it doesn’t. Rey can maintain eye contact again but it takes swallowing and crossing her arms across her chest before she feels comfortable, less vulnerable. “Sometimes when I feel him, I am overwhelmed by the pain he is holding and I think I can banish that pain and the darkness may be gone. He is not a shell.” She swallows again. “Snoke was a hollow shell of black, but Ren is just…”

“Broken.” Leia sniffs. “Even in his current resolve, he is fragmented. The Light and Dark are not balanced but only parts in him now.”

“I think he’s the First Order’s new leader.”

“I _know_ he is. The real question is, what do you do with him?”

It’s posed as a question, but Rey maintains her silence again. This is not something for her to decide. She does not know anything about war or politics or punishment. She does not know why Leia thinks she does but after seconds of quiet she says, “I could kill him.”

“Could you?” The question is flat, dispassionate. Leia is objectively curious and her emotions are a strange merge of relief and discontent when she realizes Rey is confident. “Then that is an option.”

Leia is waiting again, and Rey is frustrated, awkward across from the high-ranking woman. She thinks she has supplied Leia with the answer she wants. Luke is gone, but she is not. She knows how to fight, has bested Kylo Ren before, but still the woman looks at her intently. Her frustration fumes out. “I don’t know anything about strategy when it comes to these things.”

The _Falcon_ jerks it’s way out of hyperspace. They are minutes away from landing. Chewie growls from the pilot’s seat and Poe is awake now, rubbing his eyes and lamenting about the customized landing gear. Leia grips the side of the starship’s walls as it putters through atmo. Rey is holding on to her seat to remain upright, her stomach curling. The General is not bothered, not even surprised by the sudden drop from gravity, the screech of breaks and steam hissing around the bridge.

When the _Falcon_ stops, General Organa stands from her seat, face cool. She smooths the wrinkles away from her jacket. “This isn’t about strategy.”

.

.

He tries to hunt her with the Force, but he sees nothing, only traces, only pushes and shoves and focused thoughts of _stay away._ She’s right; he should stay away. She was nothing to him but a link to the Resistance, a touchpoint to locate where they were going and smash them completely. _Rey._ He calls for her, but the bond never worked that way. She is not something he could summon to him, and the frustration has him bang his fist on the side table, smooth his hair back before standing in his room.

He can’t believe he let them get away. He let that fucking fool distract him from the actual prize, let him manipulate and tease him like he always had, and now he was stuck on some Imperial-class Star destroyer. The Resistance has done damage, irreplaceable destruction. The _Supremacy_ was gone, as was Snoke’s seat of power. They have no formal planet base or capital, and the list of allies land-bound were thin and silent.

 _We need to rebuild._ Hux had suggested Cantonica, but First Order sympathies ran shallow and loud. He would not risk his operations in such a place of flagrancy. Nor would he agree to anything Hux suggests. _Watch him_. His gloved hand tinges at the saber on his hip. Hux is useful. His mind works for war and only war, and Kylo needs that. He knows how something like the New Republic ticks, like the Resistance. He knows about democracy and freewill when it comes to government because that is what Leia Organa had prescribed in him. Everything else had been fear and darkness. Everything else had been Snoke.

He is not Snoke.

He is beyond that. Beyond the way of the Sith or Jedi and just _fighting_ with himself. He cannot prescribe to anything but _power_ and for that he needs to learn.

So he’s patient when Hux hashes through war strategy and supply demands. He listens as his admirals paint pictures of propaganda, of the sheer and utter chaos the Resistance is in now. How they can go and find the _Millennium Falcon_ and blast it out of the sky.

He really wants that too. He wants to see that ship on fire, see it sparkle and crack into dust and then nothing but black, black space. Kylo searches the Force for Rey again.

Her signature is hypnotic white. He feels her energy too easily, too simply, even if she is kicking and screaming from his presence brushing next to her. _Where are you?_ He asks again, but the bond is not there. He feels her, but it is loose, thin. It is more sensation than reality, and Kylo let’s go of it fully. He is back in his makeshift room, and his mind reflexively looks for his mask. He panics, standing and shifting through sheets and drawers before remembering he had cracked it. The mask is gone.

_I am not Darth Vader._

The mirror is in front of him then and he sees the sweat in his hair, the now shallow scar that had once burned his flesh from Rey—no—Anakin’s lightsaber. They had destroyed that lightsaber, him and that girl. They had destroyed a past he has been running towards for so long, and for what? A glimpse of his—their—future?

 _She saw it too_. The image burns through him even now, a harsher fire than any saber cut. It would be idiotic to deny that they are connected, their destinies intertwined, but to what? Destruction would be his first guess. She could destroy him and he could her. They could end each other, though the future he saw was anything but that.

She was there, beside him, orange sand rolling over them in waves, her hand, small and calloused, clasped in his.  They were there in the middle of the storm, the sun falling into the darkness, and he had felt that power. He could still feel that power envelop him, and he has no idea how to find it again.

He flicks the cape from his shoulders, removes the leather from his hands and feet and the belt tight around his waist. There are no distractions then, no heavy weight of wool and black, and he falls into Lotus on the floor. Kylo Ren is not good at meditating. He is good at fighting and feeling, but removing all and every thought from his head is something he struggled with since the onset of any training.

Even now, his thoughts are rampant, screaming. _Where do we start? Where do we start?_

And then there’s an answer, a voice in his head that soothes his soul, a brush that feels like sun and gravel on his cheek.

_The beginning._

 


	2. Compulsion

She steps foot on Tatooine and wants to run back to the _Falcon._ She looks to Leia, betrayed by visions of Jakku, but the General pays her no attention. Whatever connection they have onboard is gone, and she is stone-faced and clear in her orders. “I need a new ship.”

They need several ships, but getting the General and her entourage a ship is mission critical. They need to scatter, to separate. They need to plant the seeds of the Resistance again and hide, and Leia cannot do that on her dead husband’s starship. Rey is surprisingly tasked for this mission, and she eases when she sees BB-8 roll up to her, beeping in excitement as his master saunters next to him. “Mos Espa is just a few klicks north.”  

The desert fills her with ease and loneliness. This place stings at familiarity, and she feels the pool inch towards her as the heat pours through her skin. _They were nobody._ Ren’s voice is clear in mind.

_You come from nothing. You’re nothing._

Rey is already sweaty, eyes dark and lidded.

_But not to me._

She swallows and pushes back the memory. “Do you have money?”

“There is Resistance support in town.” Poe flashes his hand and turns the ring on his finger, the orange emblem of the Resistance meeting her eyes. “Come on. Get out of your head for a second and let’s start walking.”

Rey has composure enough not to flounder. She strips the fabric from her waist and wraps it around her head. She feels naked without her staff, without a blaster, but they are trying to be discreet and quick. Poe grumbles at her action and removes his flight jacket. “I hate these planets.”

The walk is silent. They both are trying to retain water, though Rey is trying harder not to think of Jakku. She thinks of scavenging in the sand, to living in an Imperial AT-AT, to her parents dead and buried and _no one_. She thinks she is crazy for suggesting that she could kill Kylo Ren when he is everything she is not. He is royal born, a Skywalker and a war hero’s son. He has been so intimately attuned to the force for so long while she has run away from that part of herself, still sometimes wants to run.

But Leia was right: this needed to end. All the death and destruction and fear needed to be over, and she knew she had some part in it.

“Tatooine to Rey? Can you hear me?”

She freezes again, almost stumbles on BB-8, but catches herself. “Sorry.”

Poe Dameron shrugs. She does not know the pilot for long, but he seems light, easy going if not brash. They are already at the main road to Mos Espa, the desert city’s walls unfolding to them. “No apologies. I just need you to be my eyes on this too. There are sympathizers from both sides here.” A street vendor coughs up what seems to be purple goo. Poe squirms. “And this place has a reputation.”

Rey sees why. The city is a crowd of tight, sand dwellings, teeming with people and noises and smells. It is the type of place that draws any sort of business and people. It is the perfect place for quiet support for a rebellion.

They both follow BB-8 through street after street, sometimes running to catch-up to the droid when they are stuck behind crowds of people. Rey is flung away from any memory of Jakku. While Jakku has a simple order of tasks and trade, Mos Espa is a frenzy. She sifts closer next to Poe, and the pilot is languid. He moves his arm around her waist, and the heat is both wild and immediate. Poe leans and nips at her ear. “This is more believable, no?”

She wants to shake her head. She does not know him and their proximity makes her excited but even more uncomfortable. It is only after she touches the calming part of the Force that she realizes this is an act, that behind Poe’s shining eyes is control, focus. Rey leans into him a little more. “Let’s just get this over with.”

“Agreed.” He points a gloved hand to the right, small sand structure with a domed roof and blue glass jars strung across the entrance. There were signs in several different languages, but the one in Basic simply reads, “Mundoo’s”.

Poe hesitates at the entrance and gestures to Rey. “After you. You are the muscle on this trip.”

She can’t argue and pulls back the curtain to the shop. It’s littered, crowded. There are shelves of sand up to the ceiling with bits of metal strung everywhere, wheels hanging from above. “It’s a parts shop.” Rey’s mind whirs, immediately calculating how many portions she could get from that capacitor. Two? Maybe two and a half? Her fingers dust the shelf, flex over the metal and then there is a  _crack._ Poe has his hands up and she follows his actions to the tall, hooded figure behind the counter. The adrenaline pumps as she sees the blaster is aimed at her head, and something tinges in her skull—worry, maybe—but the emotion is not her own.

Poe’s Adam’s apple bobs in his throat. He holds his hands higher, crossing them behind his head in full surrender.

The cloak figure shakes. “Don’t touch! Don’t touch!”

“I didn’t mean…”

“Don’t!” The blaster is locked on Poe now. “Tell me!” The accent is light, flitting. “Tell me who you are!”

“The Wookiee ate my lunch.”

There’s dead silence. Rey feels her own posture shake and the hooded figure is slow to move. “What?”

“The…” Poe curses. “The Wookiee ate my lunch?”

The figure huffs and the blaster drops to the counter, the hood falling to her shoulders to reveal a crop of purple hair and black tattoos following the line of her cheeks. She is thin and tall and beautiful. “Is she alive?”

Poe coughs before speaking, “Uh, who?”

“Leia.” Her tone is anxious, eyes wide. “I received distress signal from Crait. Is she alive?”

“You received it but did nothing?” It falls out before Rey can catch herself.

The woman behind the counter is repulsed though biting. “And what would you have me do, girl? Send her an engine? I am not one of your arms dealers.” She almost spits out the words.

“Ignore her.” Poe is liquid again, all charm and ease as he approaches the woman. “I presume you are Mundoo?”

She nods, her attention caught but not stable. “Come though. We shouldn’t talk here.” Her tall frame lowers to the ground and her hand is flat on the sand floor. With the direct contact, the sand shimmers and leaves, revealing a staircase to the basement below. Mundoo does not wait for them and heads down the staircase, the tails of her thin coat flapping as she hurries. Rey does not hesitate this time. She runs to follow the parts shop owner and Poe is soon trailing her.

When they reach the basement, the sand recovers the stairs. Mundoo is already leaning over, lighting candles. Her hair almost looked grey in the dinge, and Rey then realizes she has not introduced herself. She holds out her hand. “I’m Re…”

“I don’t need to know that.” She points a finger. “I don’t need to know cutie’s name there either. You need what? A sand transporter? Parts for droids? I know the General has been trying to…”

“We need a new ship.”

“Ship?” Her eyes widen. “I do not sell ships.”

The compliment fades from Poe. He scowls. “Then why would the General send us to you?”

“Because she wants my ship.” Mundoo curses in a language Rey has never heard before and sighs, resigned. “Fine. Take it.”

She feels a pat on her back, and the smile Poe has banished so easily is back. “Keys in the ignition?”

Mundoo shakes her head and digs through the pockets of her jacket, tossing Poe the key to the starship. Her pretty face is crestfallen but she doesn’t argue or put up a fight. Poe is already examining the keys, obviously trying to decide what he was flying back to Leia. Rey wants to say something. Apologize? Thank her? The words feel dead in her mouth, and she can only nod before following the pilot up the stairs.

Her accented voice calls them back. “I’m parked at Konta’s place. Don’t go there together. You two look like Resistance fighters. She’s too repulsed by you, cutie.”

Poe grumbles something, but Rey is called back to the shelves. The sand shifts and Mundoo does not come back up. “It looks to be a supply freighter. It’ll be slow but inconspicuous. As long as it’s full of fuel it’ll…Rey?”

Her body is not her own. She moves, shifts between the stacks of ship parts on the floor, over coils and batteries, and trash until she sees it in front of her, silver and old but perfect. It’s a simple cylinder, and even though the pilot cannot find her in the mess, she looks back anyway just in case. There is a whisper, a tug, and the saber is in her hands, in her pockets before she finds her way back to Poe.

BB-8 rolls to her and she steps back. “Sorry about that.”

“You need to catch some more shuteye, don’t you?” He shakes his head and then they are both back in the desert street. “There’s a cantina across the street.” Poe points and the place looks nice, respectable if not old. There is a pink canopy and a laughing couple making there way inside, and Rey knows what’s next.

“You’ll be back then?” She says to Poe but looks at BB-8. She feels closer to the droid than her master, despite their prior closeness.

“We’ll both be back.” He keeps the charade and dips close to place a kiss on her cheek. She flexes, tenses and calms, and there is recognition on Poe’s face. “Surprising. You’re a pretty girl, Rey.”

“This is not the time to…”

“I’m not.” He raises his hand in innocence. “No intention. This is war, and war and…this…” He points to his lips. “Are a big no. I’m just surprised.”

She’s curious now. “Surprised by what?”

“That no little scavengers ever gave you a kiss. We’ll be back. Come on, BB-8.” The droid agrees and then rolls off, causing little dust clouds to rise behind him.

She is left confused and annoyed, and despite best appearances, Rey wipes the feeling of Poe’s lips from her cheek. She has read about the Jedi teachings, understands the risk of attachment, and has, in truth, never felt the risk of said attachment besides her friendship with Finn.  She has always been a loner, a scavenger. Her mind is not built for things like kissing, especially now—there is not enough room for it.

The thought is pushed aside as she makes her way to the cantina. It is nice inside, though dark. The walls are etched with light blue candles, glowing effervescent in the relatively small space. The bar is long and circular. There is soft piano music cycling through the air and a few couples drinking in the midday, far away from the scorch of the suns.

There is an open table with two chairs and Rey opts for that versus the bar. It is relaxing, the trilling keys of the piano, the jostle of ice cubes sweating in the arid, dry heat. She lets herself feel calm, pushes back the feelings of guilt and anxiety from stealing, stealing from a _Resistance_ sympathizer of all people. But she doesn’t care—no, she feels _good_ about it. She orders a green drink she can’t pronounce and curves her back into the chair, before closing her eyes. The drink is sweet, cold. Rey doesn’t know how she will pay for it.

_“You.”_

Her eyes flash open again. There is nothing in the bar that isn’t there before. Just laughter. Music. Drinks. But she feels it. She feels him in front of her and the hair on her arm is stiff straight.

_“You look…happy.”_

She places the glass down and breathes, hesitates before letting herself open, feeling the dark pulse of heat move and form in front of her, sitting across from her. His face looks long. His hair flat and wet against his shoulders. There are drops of water on his shoulders, and she is chagrined to see that he is shirtless again.

Her mouth is a smooth thin line. She pleads, begs with the Force to push him away, but Kylo Ren is there, smirking, crossing his arms. “I never did get to say goodbye.”

She does not speak. There are too many people around and she knows none of them could see the man across from her. Still, her rage boils, her anger. She wants to yell, scream, and then Kylo is standing, running a hand through his hair.

She follows him up, eyes wide. He quirks his head, intrigued. “Do I stun you into silence?”

“No.” Her voice is low, predatory. The table next to her is already staring.

“What then? You can’t think of what to say? How to possibly insult me enough? You’ve already called me a monster so you can…”

She’s walking away, not waiting for him to finish. Her feet take her to the back of the bar, and she knows he’s behind her, she can _feel_ it. Of course this bond can not be avoided that easily. She is practically jogging, and he is loose, lazy almost standing behind her.

His voice cracks. “You’re in public.”

She opens the door to the single bathroom and walks in. Kylo is already inside. His face is tight and it takes her a moment to dissect the situation in front of her. Kylo Ren, Supreme Leader of the First Order, shirtless in a public bathroom with her. _This is ridiculous._

“I agree.” He answers her thoughts and she is livid and terrified and wants to shove him. His saber is not on his belt and she tries. She pushes and feels the ghost of something, maybe skin, maybe water on her thumbs. She pushes again and it is solid, flesh on flesh. She sees the image of Kylo Ren fall back, and he is tense, angry. His shoulders pitch and he raises a hand. She flies, back hitting the rough wall of the compact bathroom, barely missing the mirror though still causing the room to shake. “What is this?”

“You tell me,” she spits and ignores the bright pain now blooming in her shoulder. His hold is weak, muted, and it is easy to break but it causes her body to crumple to the ground, her arm hitting the floor hard and firm. Kylo is stiff but not aggressing. She can see with ease the rise and fall of his chest, the water drip down his sternum, and her stomach churns. “Leave me alone.”

“You think I want this to happen? You think I want to just see you in front of me like this?”

“You do seem to take pride in your appearance.”

Kylo scoffs, almost laughs, and the mood is strange and tense. Rey knows she should feel more scared or angry than she does. But the emotion isn’t there. Kylo looks like he has just showered, and she is sunburnt and exhausted. She does not want to fight him. She does not want him in front of her at all. He strangely does not seem to agree. “We should talk about this.”

“I have nothing to say to you.”

“Why is this happening, Rey?” His voice is loud, thick. "It's getting worse, isn't it?" Kylo forms a fist in his hand and she thinks back to them both in Snoke’s throne room, the red guardsmen run through by his saber. She thinks of how he uses his power, his connection to the Force, and how he offered to help her, stay with her. She feels warm and safe and it’s absolutely _awful_.

“Get out of my head.”

He’s gone. There is nothing but her on the floor and the clang of piano echoing from the outside. Sweat paints her forehead, and her heart is trying to break out of her chest. She holds her hand over it but it does nothing to calm her.

“Miss? Miss?”

She staggers to her feet. Her joints feel unstable but she leans over to the door. “Just a minute.”

“Make that a _second_. There’s only one bathroom in this whole joint!”

The shout has her opening the door, and a blob of an alien speeded past her. Some patrons have their eyes trained on them, and she aims to go back to her seat when she sees the bill there, waiting. _What am I thinking?_ She needs to apologize or offer to clean dishes, but there’s a woman moving towards her table. She’s dressed in red tights and a grey, thick coat. It’s entirely wrong for Tatooine’s climate, but she seems perfectly fine. Her hair is bright blonde, tightly pinned curls across her scalp. Rey watches as the woman drops two silver coins on the table. She gives Rey a slight salute and shouts, “Thank me outside!” She’s short and sprite when she rushes out, and Rey feels her signature like a hammer to her head. It’s cold, dark, and Rey finds herself running.

“You’re in a rush?”

She’s blinded briefly by the sun, but Rey blinks to see the blonde girl in front of her, hands on her hips, head cocked in observation. “Who are you?”

“No one, sweetie.” She saunters more than walks up to her, fingers tapping gently on her cheeks. “Or is that better reserved for you?”

Rey panics, eyes catching the saber on the girl’s belt, the dark pool of energy wafting off her being. She mimics what Kylo had just done to her in the bathroom, shoulder burning as she holds her arm straight to the girl in front of her, and Force-pushes her back. There are gasps, shouts in the street, but Rey is already running, already putting dust and heat and sweat in between her and the woman. There’s blaster fire, more shouts and crashes as she hits a fruit stand. She smells the familiar smoke of laser around her, and Rey rolls before catching her feet again, sprinting until her legs are burning.

And then she is not moving. She is frozen, paralyzed, and the woman is walking casually in front of her, unzipping the front of her grey jacket. “You almost have me in a sweat.”

The Force-hold breaks and Rey falls backward, back colliding with the dried sand in a solid _thunk_.

There’s a sharp crack and a red lightsaber is in front of her. Everyone is screaming now, and Rey jumps again to her feet, pushing aside the pain, aside the fear and worry of the civilians around her and just looks at the woman. “I’ll ask again. Who are you?”

“Hm.” The woman hooks the blaster to her back and brings both hands to the saber, charging Rey.

The scavenger is all energy now. She rushes through her pockets to find the cylinder and tries to will it, ignite the crystal.

Nothing happens.

The blonde does not stop though she seems amused by Rey’s prospects. She is closing in on her and Rey rolls again, bad shoulder hitting ground hard as the saber cuts inches away from her. She Force-pushes again, and the blonde only quivers before charging. _I need a weapon._

She wants the saber. That is her first thought and she almost reaches to pull the thing from her enemy’s hands. But no, that would be too easy. She wants the saber, but she would need to catch this woman off guard or completely overpower her. And the way the blonde was gripping the hilt made Rey think that was not the best solution.

But still she pulls, not for the saber, but for the blaster. The weapon flies, cuts through air, and it takes too long for the blonde to realize what Rey is doing for her to stop it. The metal eases into her hand, and Rey fires, aims for the woman but missing terribly. The blast hits a crate and it is too close to a person that Rey hesitates, pauses.

The blonde rushes her again and is less than a second away from ripping through Rey’s ears. Energy from the blade crackles around her, and Rey breathes, blood rushing. The scavenger sidesteps, pulls on her attacker’s ankles so that she is face down, dust filled with sand. Her fingers are ready to push and slide right by the trigger. There is the cool rush of black surrounding her and her thoguhts grow light, almost numb. It would be easy, simple. This woman would be _dead_ and would never bother her…

Rey shakes away the voice and focuses on the saber, now loose and rolling. It glides easily to her hand, its master fallen though raging now that Rey has completely disarmed her. The firm hilt feels light, full in her hands, but Rey does not use it. She continues her grip on the saber and sprints away. She needs to find Poe. She needs to get away.

“Stop! You thief! You bitch!”

She feels the Force start to tighten around her, but Rey pushes it away, focusing. She cannot be compelled to stop, to move. She is stronger than that. She needs to get back to the Resistance. But she feels her body being tugged back, her feet no longer moving with the same speed or clamor.

Rey is not moving forward at all. Her muscles ache, tinge with the energy around her. It’s like a magnet—two opposite poles clanging towards each other, and she cannot fight it. A switch then turns in her mind. _I don’t have to_.

The blonde is moving easily towards her, and Rey gives the Force-pull one last tug before ricocheting back. It’s like a swing, a pendulum, and she rides the pull forward, body turning and the saber ready, positioned, ignited. It ignites in red and cauterized flesh against the blonde, and with one last sharp breath, Rey knows she is dead.

The body is limp as she disengages the saber from the women’s still heart. There is no blood, no mess, and the streets are quiet beside the raw ringing in her ears. There is something around her. It is strong, powerful, and for a second, she lets it coddle her, slip into her mind as she attaches the lightsaber to her hip.

_Rey._

It’s seductive, low, smooth.

_I know you, Rey._

She doesn’t recognize the voice but it quells her, sweet silk in her ear.

_Rey._

“Rey?”

Her thoughts shatter and Rey opens her eyes. Poe is wide-eyed and sweating, more than what could be contributed to the burning desert heat. Her chest heaves as her surroundings come back into focus. There are crowds forming, so many whispers that they become cacophonous in the open air. BB-8 is behind her, and she does not know how to answer the droid’s question.

“I…” She runs a hand across her forehead, slick with sweat. “I don’t know who that is.”

“She attacked you?” Poe is indifferent to the mob on the sidewalk. They kept their distance, even as he bends down and digs through the attacker’s coat. There’s a red insignia, starburst of red and black with one vertical line cutting it in two. The pilot rips out the patch and then grabs Rey’s hand. “We have to get out of here. _Now_.”

She cannot agree more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading :)


	3. Hesitation

“Katara is dead.”

He lets the words slide, slip through his mind, and then he is ignited, on fire with rage, banging his fist on the metal wall of the bridge until his hand is bruised and bloody through the leather glove. It is rage that blocks out the memories, the blonde hair damp and almost red in the glow of the temple’s flames, the harsh words and deep respect and the sudden shouts of _loyalty._

His hand is outstretched, locking his captain’s throat in a choke. The pale man stutters, grabs at the handless hold, and Kylo is not satiated. This does nothing. This does not change what happened, explain what happened, and his grip loosens. _This is not the person who dies today._

“How?” His voice is simple, short.

It takes seconds for his captain to regain his speech. “She was scouting a proper landing location on Tatooine per your request.”

“I know that.” The edge in his voice is back. “How did she die?”

“Our spies say it was a Resistance fighter.”

Kylo is reluctant at the words. He could count the number of Resistance fighters left on his fingers and toes, and the ones that could possibly beat Katara were…were…

He sees red and blood and fury in his eyes, and the captain is flown back, sliding on the metal floor of his cruiser. _Rey._ He needs to catch her, kill her for this. He needs to rip her heart from her chest and just be fucking finished with this girl. Kylo rushes towards the door. “Prepare my ship.”

“Sir?”

“My _ship_.” The word burns on his lips. “Prepare it for Tatooine.”

“Supreme Leader, we will arrive to Tatooine in under an hour. Surely, this can…”

The choke is back and Kylo is seconds, a thought and twitch away from snapping his neck in two. He resists the compulsion, however. He does not want to explain the command to some other soldier. “An Upsilon will get me there in ten. Do I need to tell you what’s faster? Do the math for you maybe?”

There is a slow, uneasy shake “no”, and Kylo lets the man go and scamper away from the bridge. He follows loosely behind, cape flickering, as he pulls his body to his chambers. They are dark, thinly lit by the electric light above. It reminds him of dusk, of starlight, and Kylo feels himself crumble and fall, knees hitting hard and fast on the cold floor.

His chest feels empty, hollow and raw and _aching_. His pulse moves too fast, and the past blazes and singes at his thoughts. _Katara is dead. Katara is dead._

He tells himself not to care, to tuck away those emotions deep and under the curtain of black. But then Katara is there and she is alive, flanked by five others, hands outstretched in the rain. There is hope swelling in his chest and something akin to belonging as they kneel down, saying, “ _We hear it too.”_

But there is nothing but the thin buzz of electricity, the deep flume of blood, and Kylo brings his body up, cheeks wet with salt. He has never felt so alone.

 .

.

She does not like Poe’s plan and she tells him that. Flat out. It is reckless, thoughtless, and puts him in extreme danger. The pilot is offended but she does not care. She is good at flying but he is better, much better. There is no real reason for him to stay behind and see if there are any other First Order members tailing them.

“We don’t even know if she is First Order.”

The insignia is unfamiliar but the red saber isn’t. Rey does not want to think about what it would mean if there is another faction of Force-sensitive people out there and she relents to Poe’s assumption. There is pain and anguish with this woman’s death. She feels it wrap around her heart until it is tight, binding. It is hard to ignore even though the situation is begging for her undivided attention. BB-8 is practically ringing, and Rey tries to focus, diminish the overwhelming feeling of despair. “You fly the ship.”

“If anyone is looking for someone, they are looking for you.”

“Exactly.” She tugs at Poe’s wrist. He is lean and firm against the freighter. “Get the General out of here. Don’t let them use me as bait.”

That seems to convince him. Poe shifts away from Rey’s grip and the ramp to the freighter is released. The landing strip is more like a junkyard, but Rey doesn’t mind. She can hide here, lay low while Poe ensures the Resistance’s safety. “Get to the _Falcon_ as soon as we’re out.”

“I can sense her.” Even now the General’s signature is humming bright. “I’ll know when you hit hyperspace.”

He nods and looks to BB-8. The droid hesitates before rolling up the ramp beside him. Poe holds two fingers to his forehead and salutes. “May the Force be with you.”

The ramp door closes, and Poe is soon in the cockpit as the giant ship roars to life. Rey moves away, out of the sudden sandstorm before breaking away from the airstrip altogether. She wonders when the last time she slept was, when she lied down and gave her muscles and body reprieve. She can’t remember and that is too exhausting, so she slips that away, covers it in light shades of black and lays low until she feels the General is gone.

The crowds are smaller on the streets of Mos Espa but still nervous, frightened. Rey feels the uneasy waver in the Force around her and breaks away from the main road, removing her vest to cover her head from the sun and eyes. At some point, she makes a wrong turn. The area is unfamiliar, but she ignores the anxiety, the sudden thoughts of _what if I can’t escape,_ and continues forward. How many times had she been lost in the Jakku desert? Did she stay lost forever?

The _Falcon_ is close. She has left the crowd of Mos Espa miles ago, and she’s relying on instinct now and the vague sensation of life energy exuding ahead. She stops. She cannot sense Leia anymore but she wants to be sure. There is something familiar, coming closer, and it takes entirely too long for her to recognize who it is.

Her gait lengthens as she picks up speed. She needs to get to the _Falcon._ There is so much rage and fury coming towards Tatooine, and she cannot believe he is soon breaking atmo. The cloud and pressure of him is enveloping her head space, crawling over her as she waves her hands and screams, “Chewie!”

The ramp to the starship lowers to meet her and she cannot catch her breath. She pushes past Finn and heads directly to the bridge and to the co-pilot’s seat. The Wookiee shouts next to her, but her fingers are already moving. “We have to go, Chewie. Finn!”

The ex-trooper is frazzled. “Rey, what’s gotten into…”

“I need you to man the gun.” She sounds colder than she would have liked, but Finn does not hesitate and they are soon airborne.

Chewie roars next to her and Rey sighs, trying to relax in the seat. “I don’t know where we’re going. We just need to…”

The _Falcon_ shakes, and Rey grabs on to the control panel in front of her to stop her body from crashing to the ground. The hit is direct but not damaging, and she flips a switch to reinforce the shields. Another hit. Another shake and toss and then she sees an Upsilon in front of her, black wings almost completely upright. She cannot see him clearly from this distance, but she knows it is him. She knows Kylo is there and Finn fires without any command.

The Upsilon is not quick enough to respond, and she watches the shuttle take the hit while the _Falcon_ continues to climb and climb through sky. But she feels the First Order ship on their tail. It takes maneuvering from both her and Chewie to barrel roll and avoid the barrage of lasers suddenly tracked to them.

_Just leave us alone!_

Chewie adjusts the ship and they are back on the offensive. The Upsilon is quick to fire again, a black cloud zipping in and out until Finn hits it again. Rey watches as the angled ship arches, slows. His shields are down.

_Kylo just leave._ She feels him in her head, his energy so familiar, and her mind is now fragments. He is so, so close and she can’t decide if it is soothing or smothering. " _Get out of here."_

_"No."_

Rey stiffens. The word is sharp, like ice coiling down her spine. She cannot see him but his voice is there clear as the Wookiee next to her. Her hands slip on the controls and she eases her body down, linking herself deeper with the Force.

_"I don’t want to kill you."_ The thought surprises her, but it’s true and it’s there and it feels like she is waiting forever for him to respond, like her stomach will fall out. Chewie arcs the ship again and it almost does. _Let us leave._

_"You killed Katara."_

The heat of his anger, his pain, floods her. " _She attacked me."_

_"You’re lying."_

_"I’m not."_ Their conversation puzzles her. If this Katara was working with Kylo Ren and the First Order, why _wouldn’t_ she attack her, a member of the Resistance? Chewie dodges another series of lasers, and Rey lays both hands flat. " _You don’t want to do this. You don’t want to kill me."_

There’s only silence in his head. Rey sees Chewie plug coordinates into the console, and Rey inhales again. She can almost feel his breath on her, feel the blind fury in his body, the ripped confusion when he says, " _Why don’t I?"_

“Rey!” The comm on the console buzzes and Finn’s voice fills the room around them. “Rey, the Upsilon’s shields are down. I have a clear shot. I can end this.”

“Don’t.” It’s reflex and she anxiously looks at Chewie.

“What?! I recognize that steering. Kylo Ren’s in that ship. We can…”

“Don’t, Finn.” She looks back through the pane of glass to the dark ship across from them. They are parallel, in direct line of sight. They are one button away from killing the Supreme Leader, but Rey pushes another, locking the gun from Finn’s control. The comm is still connected but she looks to Chewie when she speaks. “I’m sorry.”

The Wookiee says nothing. His face is flat, the fur making it even harder to tell what he is thinking, and Rey worries that he will push her away, unlock the gun, and shoot the Upsilon out of the sky. A part of her wishes he would, the rational, logical part of her screams for him to. But something stronger is yelling _no_. This is not the way this ends, and Kylo Ren knows it too. 

Chewbacca turns to the glass and whines. It’s a broken cry, and Rey does not know if Finn is still listening so she says, “He’s not shooting us either.”

They hover, a weird shaky truce, until Chewie turns the _Falcon_ away and plummets them through the atmosphere. Rey does not start breathing again until the sky turns to black.

 .

.

His skin is ice. It’s hard to breathe, each inhale and exhale feeling like he’s swallowing glass or stone, and Kylo attempts to sit back and think about what just happened.

What did he _do?_

He had them. They were right there, right _there_ and he could have done it, been gone with Rey and the _Falcon_ haunting him. He could have killed her, received instant vengeance for Katara, but his hand slowed, stopped. _And she did the same._ It hits him suddenly, viscerally. He wants to hit the console until it is nothing more than wires and metal, but he can’t stir the energy.

_I should be dead._

Kylo starts to remove the safety belt to stand but stops. He’s not thinking clearly. He needs to land this ship and cloak it before he catches anymore attention. His fingers move methodically, effortlessly, but they stir memories inside him. Han Solo taking him on the _Millennium Falcon_ for the first time, showing him the adjustments he had made and then shocked when his son suggested something better. Han Solo coming back from a long trip, smelling like fire and oil, and handing him a metal box filled with some toy. And then he would ruffle his hair, ask him how school is, if he’s behaved for his mother.

The shuttle lands easily on the sand, and Kylo sits five, maybe ten minutes, before he can compel his body to move. His hands are shaking on the belt, and the memory is still there in his head, poignant, strong.

_“Have you had anymore dreams?”_

_He is young, seven years old and dressed in the blue robes of the New Republic. He looks at the metal box with vague interest before setting it down on the table and sitting on the opposite end of the sofa from his father. “Yes.”_

_“Did you tell your mother?”_

_No. It’s harder to tell her. She understands how important they are, what they mean, and he does not want to think about that. His father is easier though he never says anything useful, relevant. But maybe that’s okay._

_“Ben?”_

_His head shoots up and he shakes his head. “She’s been working. She’s been very stressed about some…something and I don’t want to bother her. I always bother her.”_

_“You know that’s not true.”_

_It feels true though and he says as much to his father who waves a hand before taking a long sip from his drink. “You can talk to me. You know that. You can always talk to me.”_

_“But you’re always gone.”_

That is not him. He rips the memory from his head and displaces it, becomes numb to the emotions starting to pile and pile within him. There is coldness, darkness within him, and Kylo can finally stand.

The Upsilon is a small ship but well stocked, and Kylo moves to the back and unhooks his cloak. He is here as the Supreme Leader of the First Order, but only one person needs to know that. He peels the black gloves from his hands, the tunic from his chest and replaces the latter with a beige, simple shirt. Tatooine is painful with heat, but he covers himself with a vest and removes the saber from his belt to slip into a pocket instead. His pants stay as does his boots. He has worn a mask for so long he doubts anyone would recognize him, but he has to admit that all black looks conspicuous and hot in the desert. The comm on the ship buzzes.

“Sir? We are in orbit. Permission to land?”

“Not granted. I want you to stay up there.” He moves back to the console and front glass of the ship. He catches his reflection, the scar tearing his face and he wants to bite out the words. _Go and find the_ Falcon _. Go and…_ “I shouldn’t be long.”

 .

.

Finn is not happy with her and she can’t exactly blame him. He waves his hands disgruntled, frustrated, and Rey can only watch. He’s right. She stands to meet him and keeps her voice calm, soft. It’s harder than she thinks. “I know.”

“You _know_? We had him! Rey, we could have ended this! Why did you lock my gun? Is it…” He looks to Chewie and lowers his voice. “Did he… do something to you?”

“No!” She’s insulted by the suggestion and soon Chewie stands next to her, flanks her. Kylo Ren has not done anything to her, but she still knows she can’t kill him. The bond between them is the feeling in her gut that halts further action but she’s not sure that will mean anything to Finn. “Kylo Ren killed Snoke and that did not stop the First Order. Hux will just take his place.”

“I don’t know about you, but I’d much rather fight against Hux.” Finn sighs, his attention briefly drawn to the back where Rey knows Rose is resting. “Why didn’t he shoot us?”

Rey hesitates, looks at the saber on her belt. Ren was angry at her, furious for what she had done, but he didn’t want her to die. _Why?_

“Is it your bond?”

Chewie stares at her and growls. Rey can’t stop the heat rising to her cheeks despite knowing better. “It’s not like that, but maybe Finn. Did you talk to Poe when he picked up the General?”

“Barely. He mentioned something about you laying low but that you’d catch up.” He digs through his pocket and holds out the patch. “He also says we should look into this?”

She takes the patch from his hand, the starburst of black and red, and the pain the fallen Jedi feels crawls through her again. _He knew her well._ “There was a woman who attacked me. That patch was in her coat.”

“Attacked you?” He is all concern now, whatever prior annoyance gone with this new knowledge. His eyes flicker to the saber. “Was that…”

“It was hers. She was strong with the Force. Ren knew her too.”

“How do you…”

“The bond.” She swallows. Chewie is silent but stiff. “He was furious with me.”

“This doesn’t make any sense, Rey.”

“Do we need to question it now?” Rey knows why but doesn’t say it. She’s not sure if Finn will believe her at all, so she breaks eye contact and looks back to the coordinates Chewie plugged in. “We still need to figure out where we are going.”

Chewie roars in response. He knows where they are going but he is done talking with them. He turns to Rey, hands on her forearms, and whines.

“Do I look that bad?” She laughs and Finn echoes her. The tension from the room falls away and she feels warm again. She does need to sleep. It’s not until she always the thought that her body shifts, lowers. Her entire being is exhausted and she gratefully follows Chewie to her room.

It is the same bunk Finn had brought her to when she had originally boarded the _Falcon_ , after Crait and escaping and Master Luke…

“Thank you.” There’s a white towel folded on the small bed, and Rey grabs it. It’s rough, over-washed, but still better than anything she is used to. “Are you saying I smell too?”

The Wookiee is saying that, and Rey lets herself laugh again, grabs the towel, and makes her way to the washroom. She really just wants to sleep, to drown her mind in slumber, but she tries to stay alert. The passcode to the small, full bathroom is simple, and she quickly memorizes it before Chewie pulls away. They won’t have any more problems with one bathroom, he says. The Resistance has completely left them…well everyone besides Rose Tico.

It’s not until Chewie is completely gone and the shower is running cold against her fingers that she realizes what he said. _We’re not the Resistance._ At some point in time, someone made the decision for her. They were cut off, disconnected from the war, and Rey feels guilty when relief pours through her. When the water shifts to lukewarm, she removes the sandy clothes from her body. There are purple bruises dotting her small frame up and down, like lilacs in snow. Her lip is cut, her joints shaky, but Rey climbs into the shower and lets the soothing warmth ride down her skin.

Standing is hard, and she does not try to fight it. Rey bends down, falling into Lotus, letting the water hit her straight on while her shoulders dip lower, relaxed. And then there is a _pang_ , a sharp intake of breath as her thoughts come back.

_I killed her._

She had wanted to. She had wanted to see this woman dead because she attacked her. This woman had been powerful, strong with the Force, and she was a threat. To her, to Finn, to _everyone._

Rey falls into the darkness, the wave of black touching her mind, soft, gentle, but so, so strong. It’s whispering to her, cradling her mind with a velvet touch, and she just wants to bask in it. To let it consume her.

_I know you, Rey._

The voice fills her. She falls out of Lotus at the whispers, her hands skimming the sides of her ribcage. The water falls like fire on her skin.

_Will you help me? Will you come to me?_

“Kylo?” Her eyes flash open, but he isn’t there. It doesn’t surprise her; the presence is powerful but not Kylo Ren’s and that terrifies her. Her back stiffens and she pulls herself to the edge of the tub’s floor, dragging her knees to her chest. “Who…who are you?”

A pause. Rey thinks the presence is gone and then her mind is ripped away from the bathroom, torn to a dark night sky over a green world. There is fire everywhere, and she has seen this before. The memory is stark and terrifying, and she feels so small, so memorized by the flames flickering orange and red, licking the black with unabashed heat.

And then there is a figure walking towards her, He is carrying a long staff, and he bends down so that they are eye-level. Rey falls, tumbles through the cold rain until her hands and wrists are deep in mud. She is crying, sobbing, and the staff is high above her, ready to crack against her skull until it does not.

The rain shifts, no longer freezing but warm. The vision is gone and she is left shaking in the tub. “I need to go back.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and Kudos are like sunshine on a cloudy day :)


	4. Provocation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The poem found in this chapter is not mine. 
> 
> It is canon though.

She’s beautiful, really, especially for a woman her age. Kylo places the glass down. He doesn’t feel like drinking even under the heat of the twin suns. They are posted outside, a thin sheet of fabric acting as minimal shade for the two humans. The woman flexes her hands and her fingers dance with light from the jewels of her rings. “What should I call you again?”

“Nothing.” He worries the intimidation factor is lost without his mask and cloak, but the woman’s confidence still wavers at the firm tone.

She coughs and straightens. “I know one of your knights is dead. I saw her. So easily slain by some young girl…”

“How far did she get?” He does not want to talk about Rey. The bitter anger is still there but it has no direction. It’s volatile and he can’t open himself up to it. Not now. “Did she find anything?”

“If she did, it was not reported back to me. But don’t concern yourself with artifacts. Ben, we need to think about the future of the First Order.”

He allows the name slip—this woman has known him too long to start changing now—and eyes the area around them. The patio is secluded, the back of her private home. The woman laughs at this uneasiness and pushes a strand of greying black hair behind an ear. “Don’t worry about that. You surely have enough on your plate to worry about, what with two dreadnoughts lost. Starkiller lost…”

“I am aware of our losses, Carise.”

Sindian’s eyebrows rise. “I don’t know if you are. You walk this line, Ben. You kill and fight and then just push any true feeling away. I wonder, do you understand what it’s like to lose a legion of your men? To lose _Katara_? Until you let that pain in, how can I trust that you will exact punishment on the Resistance?”

He’s surprised by Sindian’s words. His temper, his inability to quell the rage inside him, has always been a part of his life. Carise Sindian knows this too. She’s experienced it firsthand back in Hanna City. The place triggers remembrance. “You want Organa dead.”

“Why _isn’t_ she?” Her voice is almost a whine. “Someone might think you’ve stayed your hand.”

He thinks of the attack on the Resistance flagship, and sneers. “I killed Han Solo.”

“Yes, yes very good. I’m sure one of us will kill Leia too, but first let’s talk about strategy. I have one dreadnought ready for you. _The Absolution_ is parked and cloaked on Cantonica.”

He did not come here for ships but he promises to tell Hux. Sindian goes on about the resources she can employ, the connections they still have—even in Chandrila—and Kylo absorbs the information, logs it, but shifts the conversation when there is a break in her speech. “The artifact.”

“I told you…”

“I don’t believe you.” His hand rises and he feels the surge of the Force come easily to him. He focuses, feels the bind leave his fingers and wrap around Sindian’s neck. The old politician stutters, eyes wide and white. “Tell me where it is.”

She’s choking, cannot speak, but her eyes shift towards the back door of her sand dwelling. Kylo lets go of his hold immediately, and the woman gasps, begs for air. He rages through her home, turning over shelves, tables, until Sindian is running in, silks ripping from her speed. “I’ll show you! Stop! Ben, I’ll show you!”

He halts the stampede through her home and watches the woman pull a piece of cloth from the inside of her robes. Kylo swallows. He knew it was close, could feel the energy and pull from the object, and Sindian hands him the clothed cover thing. His hands move over the rough material to reveal the medallion. It is smaller than he thought it would be, such a tiny rock to hold such immense power. His fingers edge the symbol, a bright white star outlined in deep black, all set on a grey field. “Where did Katara find this?”

“A junkshop. She couldn’t recall the name. This is not the artifact you’re looking for. It’s not your grandfather’s.”

He doesn’t know how Sindian could possibly know that, but it doesn’t matter. Perhaps this medallion did not belong to Darth Vader, but it is undoubtedly _his._ There is connection even when he wraps it again, setting the thing in his vest’s pocket. “I’m not looking solely for his objects.”

“You’re not?” Sindian is genuinely surprised. Her face falls when she looks around the room. “I assume you’re done here. Next time send Hux. Seeing you is seeing Organa.”

The hatred flooding from her is palpable, and Kylo holds the medallion in his pocket to stop himself from killing her. Carise Sindian was banished, destroyed by Organa. She is a firm ally against the Resistance and he can’t risk that.

They don’t say goodbye, and Kylo can’t help but reach again in his pocket, holding the item firm in his ungloved hand. It’s…it’s an emotion that he barely recognizes, but it’s there, broken and small but deeply embedded in his core. There’s a sheer calm, a relief that makes him excited, mind buzzing, as he leaves Mos Espa and uncloaks his shuttle.

He lays the medallion on top of his ship’s console. It seems to be burning, so much untapped potential, and he doesn’t even know how to use it. There’s a block that clears in his mind, as if some pressure had disappeared, some burden lost, forgotten. He touches the medallion again, and his mind calls, burns out for Rey. Kylo is operating on instinct, on emotion and power, and he folds his hand over the grey stone and begs.

_“Rey?”_

There is nothing. No other voice or image next to his own, but the anger Kylo thought he’d feel isn’t there. There is only a night sky, of rain falling and the clear image of a blue—not red—saber in his hands. He is younger and terrified. He is approaching Gaun and yelling at him to stop, using the Force to halt the spear’s swing and throwing his friend feet away from the crumpled body on the ground. “You don’t belong here.” His says aloud, voice synced with the memory, a past he had blocked out, pushed away but is now assaulting him. Kylo’s grip on the medallion tightens. She is so small, just a girl, and her eyes catch the blue of his saber.

_“Do you?”_

_._

_._

Her sleep is plagued with dreams that seem too real. Something has happened. Something is different with the Force, and she tries to catch what it could mean, read it but she struggles. She knows Master Luke is there. What was once an image of nothing, of a dead, rotting body, has revealed itself to be anything but. He is not nothing, but everything. He is around her, everywhere, and though the thought comforts her, that is not what she feels.

There was a darkness in the shower with her. It sits deep within her chest, a mangled beast waiting to rise, to show its face again. For now, it is settled, tucked away, but Rey knows it will come back. She knows that it’s waiting to pounce, to take full control, and it frightens her.

She wakes up in a cold sweat and takes advantage of the opportunity to take a shower again, hoping the darkness won't follow her there again. On Jakku she had no such luxury. A shower was equivalent to a quarter portion, and a part of her feels like she’s stealing even as the hum of the water is turned off and she is clean again. Back in her room, she pulls the thin grey clothes from the dresser. They are simple—a tunic, a pair of pants—but it is perfect and enough for her.

Rey walks to the open corridors of the _Falcon_. Chewie is still alert at the front of the pilot’s seat. She would relieve him soon, but first she draws towards the back. Her eyes catch Finn, asleep in a chair next to the girl laying flat, covered in bacta. _That must be Rose._ Her smile is quick, faint before she turns back to the drawers.

Maybe she shouldn’t have taken the texts from the Force Tree, and now that she thinks about it again, what had been her intention? To shove them at Kylo Ren? To make him sit down and read about the Jedi Order so that he can see the light again?

She scoffs at herself even though the attempt rings true. Yes, she believes it. It’s hard to admit to herself but after Tatooine how could she deny it? Ben Solo is not beyond redemption. But to think that these books—books he had surely looked at and studied under Master Luke –would help? And that it was _her_ responsibility to deliver them to him?

Like she didn’t have anything else to be concerned with.

Though there is still something unbelievably compelling about them. The wisdom encased in those tomes have her crisscrossed on the cold metal floor. She picks one, the oldest and most fragile, and places it on her lap. Her fingers skim the spine before opening to the first page.

 _First comes the day_ __  
Then comes the night.  
After the darkness  
Shines through the light.  
The difference, they say,  
Is only made right  
By the resolving of grey  
Through refined Jedi sight.

There are footsteps, and Rey slams the book shut as the Wookiee towers over her. “Yes, I can fly the _Falcon_ now. You look exhausted.”

He growls at her.

“And smelly too.” Rey stands up. “Better shower.”

Chewie waves a hand at her as she makes her way back to the pilot’s seat. There is not much steering with the Falcon on autopilot. She looks out of the glass and the emptiness of space, stars whirring, shooting past her, before opening the book once again.

It’s crisp with dust and age, and she tries to be as delicate as she can though that’s not her forte. She’s impatient with the beginning chapters, about the power of the Light and serenity and peace. It is nothing new to her, and, to be perfectly honest, she cannot give herself completely to the Jedi Code. To ignore something like chaos, like emotion, like _passion_ was something she could not bring herself to sacrifice. Maybe under years with Master Luke she could learn to. Maybe she could push aside her sense of personal attachments to people like Finn, but did she want to?

It makes more sense than, say, the Sith Code. She had never read the code herself and she has no intention to, but what she knows of it, it’s just an excuse for power and conflict and terror. She tries to find the exact wordings in this text, of either the Jedi Code or the Sith, but it’s not there. Nothing is so easily spelled out for her, and she reads a whole chapter about potential hand movements before the book peeks her interest again.

It’s about the Force, but not as she recognizes it. It does not talk about emptying emotion or using strength for power. It is about _both_. It is about passion and peace and serenity. It is about strength and power and knowledge. It is the island all over again—of death and life and balance. Rey inhales, breath catching, as she feels the Force swim in her blood. There is no darkness, no light. There is nothing but pure, unadulterated _being_ , and she is no longer afraid.

.

.

“I want her dead, Ren. I want her in the ground and buried. None of that bodiless one-with-the-Force bullshit. I want her head on a spear.”

Gaun is livid, to say the least. He hasn’t touched the food in front of him or the wine by his side. Kylo had arranged this meeting for information purposes, but the knight next to him is _raging_. The energy is dark, torrential, and he tries to keep his own head in check. “You know I won’t allow that.”

The large man’s face is incredulous, buzzcut looking even shorter with his eyebrows raised so high. Ren is back on the destroyer, seeing his crew to the _Absolution_ before leaving again, though none of them know that yet. He expected Gaun to be outraged with Katara’s death but he didn’t think it would lead to him presenting that outrage to the Supreme Leader.

“I could kill her easily.”

“You can’t.” Kylo takes a bite of his food. It’s already cold and he frowns. “You won’t kill her.”

“She murdered her!” His yell echoes, reverberates against the metal walls. His fist slams hard on the table. “How can you sit there and not let me do this! Let me do this!”

“You’re not thinking straight, Gaun.” Though his volume is lower, it carries thick with venom. “Your emotions would get you killed.”

He sniffs and stands from the chair. “You sound like a fucking Jedi.”

The small room’s door whirs open and shut with Gaun’s exit, and Kylo Ren is left alone. He stares at the metal table, at the cold food and bitter wine and uplifts it easily, throwing it all across the room before standing, pacing against the walls. His mind is breaking, fragmented, and he doesn’t understand what he’s doing, why he doesn’t just _kill her._

His hand slips to his pocket again, and the calm is back, the emotion reduced into an almost peace. He doesn’t want to kill her. It’s as simple as that. He doesn’t want Rey to die, and he will do anything in his power to make sure that doesn’t happen.

It’s not a realistic opinion, but it’s honest. They are on opposite sides of a galactic war but he does not want her dead. They are Force-bound and maybe that’s why he feels this unbidden earnestness to keep her safe, to want her by his side.

Because he does, for some indescribable reason, still want that.

Hux sighs when he enters, taking one look at the floor and raising a palm to his head. “Should I get some troopers in here to clean this up? Are you done throwing your tantrum so that we can have an actual conversation?”

He wants to say no. He never does want to talk to Hux, but admitting he had a tantrum would be too gratifying for the redheaded man. “Speak quickly.”

“We are landing on Cantonica. I presume you will want to be the first to christen the _Absolution_.”

He really doesn’t. Kylo shakes his head, kicking a fruit with his boot.

“Supreme Leader…”

“You do it. I have other things to attend to.”

“Looking for more artifacts?”

His fist tightens. What he wouldn’t give to just ring Hux’s throat. “No.”

“Then may I ask where you are going?”

“You may not. Just know that it will help in our cause of strengthening the First Order.” He crosses his arms but Hux doesn’t move. “You are dismissed.”

The pale man does not shift. “What should I tell the men when they note your absence?”

Kylo doesn’t care. “Dismissed, Hux.”

There’s a scoff and then the smaller man is leaving. _Good_. He doesn’t need to be on the _Absolution_ but he still heads back to his chambers and prepares his things before requesting another shuttle. He won’t take an Upsilon this time—they are too specific, too particular, and he doesn’t want the attention even from his own men. He leaves his bedroom and heads to the docking station, ignoring the jerks and looks of frightened troopers as he passes.

He could go back there. Skywalker is dead. He knew it shortly after they had left Crait, but still his gloves hesitate over the coordinates, and he almost hates himself for still having them memorized. The hanger door opens and he breaks out into space, away from the First Order and Hux and Gaun. The medallion against his chest is burning, and Kylo sets the ship to auto before pulling himself away from the controls.

It’s smaller than an Upsilon and much, much older. The floors creak under his boots and the ceiling is entirely too low for Kylo’s tall frame. There’s still a washroom, however, and a small bunk in the corridor that would act as his bed. He unhooks his cloak, flinging it to the floor unceremoniously, and sits on the edge of the thin mattress. His gloves are off, then his boots, and belt. Kylo unfolds the cloth from the medallion and sets it on his pillow.

“Grandfather.” He swallows. It seems odd that the name came to his lips, that he tries so hard to remove the past from his life but it still invades him, buries him. The medallion is the most ancient thing he has ever laid eyes on. It whispers more than screams power and influence, but there’s something countering it, providing incredible stability. “Grandfather, what is this?”

There is no response. No ripple in the force or his mind. It is the exact opposite of what he experiences with Rey, and he has to wonder why, when he has dedicated half a decade to Darth Vader’s pursuits, that it is some girl that speaks to him.

_And Snoke._

It’s a bitter though empty thought. Snoke had manipulated him, goaded him. He…he used him, didn’t he? He used him for power and control, and that was why Kylo killed him. He would not be controlled. He would never be used again. Not as a prodigy or apprentice or...

The medallion pulls his mind out of the dark pool, slips over him in warmth and comfort, and Ren feels the Light ripple through him. He sees the wash of the oceans, the movement of clouds, and plants root deep in soil. He sees honey-combed stone houses and cliffs and this is a place he has never been before but desperately wants to go to.

_I’m exhausted._

He removes a hold on both the light and dark and lets his body fall, tucking the medallion under his pillow. Maybe—for once—it’ll stay his bad dreams.

 .

.

 _He feels warmth flood him, a hand on his chest, a chin on his shoulder, breath hitting the crook of his neck in a light, tantric rhythm. He should be confused, on edge, but he’s anything but with the girl next to him, her body folded half over his own, all skin on skin. Her fingers trace his sternum, brushing smoothly to his lower abdomen and he fidgets_.

_Her eyes are still closed but she practically purrs into his neck. “Did I go too far?_

_“No.” He says and lowers her hand again, linking his palm over her knuckles and guiding them down further, further. “Never.”_

_“Good.” She smiles and kisses his neck. Her lips are light, velvet, the exact opposite of her hands. They are rough with fighting and a too-tight grip, but why does he care about that when they are running up and down his chest, tracing over the indentation in his skin, skimming over the scar in his upper shoulder, his cheek._

_He pulls back. “Don’t…”_

_Her lips stop and her eyes open, wide and brown and sorry. The word doesn’t escape her —it never has—and she is moving her legs, straddling him, touching both palms flat on his chest as she kisses his cheek, his scar. The marks burn hot and hard, searing on contact. His body curls, bends under her, and he finds his own hand tracing down her spine, the curve of her ass. He has never felt this fucking good and he wants more. He topples her, moves his body over hers as she laughs, giggles. His hands are over her wrists as he pins her, and then he leans forward, licking the edge of her jawline. She tinges, flushed red._

_“Not fair! That was a nice moment, Ben! Not fa…”_

Kylo wakes and immediately walks to the washroom. He is sweaty, warm, and he runs the faucet to splash water in his face. The chill is shocking ice, but still not enough. He pushes his black hair behind his ears and attempts to lower his body heat further, but all he feels is flesh and breath and _her_. His breathing is heightened and his pants are uncomfortably tight. Kylo touches the dark circles under his eyes. “This is getting worse.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The burn is a slow one. But it needs some spark, right? 
> 
> And thank you all for the lovely comments and kudos! Have a happy, Reylo-filled 2018!


	5. Discovery

She has never been to Chandrila and even this trip will be short. Rey barely wants to leave the _Falcon_ at all, but this is Finn she is dealing with, so she accompanies him off the bridge. _He’s worried._ The lines are etched in his forehead and his chest is labored. Rose still hasn’t woken, even with the last bits of bacta, and it was starting to take a toll on her friend. “We’ll get her help here. Chandrila is renowned for their innovations in medicine.” Her words are flat. She doesn’t know that, but the lie seems to perk Finn up and that was all she wanted. The Wookiee is behind them, cradling Rose’s small frame over his shoulder.

Chewie growls and points forward. He is very familiar with this city, and Rey waits for an explanation as to why but it never comes. But the clinic is not far from their landing point, and Finn runs more than walks to the front doors. There is staff, doctors, and nurses pouring out with a stretcher, and Rose is brought inside. Rey grabs Finn’s hand. “She’ll be okay. She’s strong.”

“She risked her life trying to save me.”

It’s the first Rey is hearing this, and she wants to say something, ask why or how or maybe tell him none of this is fault. The words fall low, silent in her mouth but Finn is already responding, “She said this war is about love, Rey.”

That doesn’t sound right. It bothers her immensely and she drops Finn’s hand. “How can so much death be about love?”

“We’re protecting people. We are protecting the people we love, the life we want. “

“The Resistance is?”

“Yes.”

“From the First Order?”

Finn half-laughs, “Of course. Did you think I was talking about someone else?”

She knows what he meant but wonders, for a second, what the First Order believes, what they told men like Finn when they were only boys and did not know any better. That they would protect each other and the life they want. That they would die for each other.

For love.

It makes her nervous, afraid, and she is flung back to memories of Jakku, of sitting and waiting for someone she barely remembered, for watching her parents ship leave…they left and how she had been nothing.

The memories are blurred even now. Kylo Ren told her that she had been sold. Her parents were no one, drunks, and that they traded her for a bite of alcohol. _Then why was I free?_

Did she escape? She knew Unkar Plutt respected her, that his thugs mostly left her alone, but that was not a freedom easily won. And she can’t remember how she did it.

“Where to next?”

The question catches her off-guard. She turns to Finn, and he is pained though slightly overwhelmed by the glamor of Hanna City. She is too. She has never been to a place like this before. It thrums, pulses with an energy different from the Force or anything she possesses. There are impossibly tall towers, small rovers zipping everywhere. There is so much noise and smells and metal that she thinks she would be overwhelmed.

She isn’t. She’s fascinated, and on reflex, she starts walking. The streets are wide and crowded with people. They are dressed richly, posh, and Rey folds her arms, suddenly self-conscious though none of them pay her or Finn any mind.

“This is the seat of the Galactic Senate of the New Republic.”

Rey gives Finn a surprised look, but the ex-trooper shrugs. “It was one of the targets on Starkiller.”

Her eyes catch a child smiling, grinning at his parents. He couldn’t be older than eight. “I would imagine Hux would want this place gone.”

“Hux? Yes. But Ren?” Finn shook his head. “It’s incredible.”

Chewie’s loud growl calls them back. He wants to go somewhere. With only Rey. Rey translates for Finn, and the man scowls. “I don’t want to be separated from you.”

“It’ll just be for a moment.” She points to the clinic. “Someone should stay with Rose.”

The guilt visibly hits him, and he exhales deeply before turning from her. “I’ll see you soon.”

“I’ll be back.” Her smile is weak, half-formed. Rey and Chewbacca wait for the ex-trooper to go inside before turning to leave. The Wookiee roars next to her, and she hangs her head lower. “I’m not. I’m just not telling the truth.” Rey sighs. “He can’t come with me. This is something I need to do alone. Where are you taking me?”

The Wookiee hesitates and points ahead.

“Why couldn’t Finn come?”

Chewie’s normally harsh tone is tempered. Rey can barely hear him, but then she recognizes the words and they are simple though pained.

_This is something for Ben._

_._

_._

Gaun had contacted him five times while he was sleeping. The blinking light on the comm says there are messages too, but Kylo does not listen to them. The trip would be long, even in hyperspace, and the last thing Kylo wants ringing in his head is Gaun’s mewling.

He had been pained too. Her death had brought him to fury, and Gaun must feel a darkness even more powerful than his own. Kylo knows why they joined him, back before the Knights of Ren were a formal group to join. It was partially respect—they never did have the brashness to mock his powerful connection to the Force like the other students. But, like him, they wanted something different from the strict Jedi Code Skywalker preached. Like him, they heard whispers in the night calling them, promising them things like power and strength and _freedom._

They were thirteen and he had stolen more than half from his former master. It had been easy, too easy. One flicker of something different, and his would-be knights were attentive, ready. Katara and her saber. Gaun with his spear. Mullen always preferred a blaster in a fight, and he stops the smile from forming as he remembers the one time he had lit a tree on fire. Master Luke had told him it was a Force Tree and the twelve-year-old had been so incredibly _gullible_ about the whole…

_Stop._

He can’t let the past draw him in again. Katara is dead. Skywalker is dead. Solo is dead.

_Kill the past._

He had done it. He had killed it. It was dead and he thought the resolve would be there, that he would stop wanting to tear himself and everyone else apart. The medallion hums from where he left it on the cot. He feels it now, weaving across the room, tightening around his heart in a soothing embrace.

_Did Snoke tell you that?_

The voice is not his own. It is not Rey’s either, but it’s familiar though he can’t place it. He welcomes the presence, lowers into the pilot’s seat and whispers, “Yes.”

_You are not Snoke._

He knows that. Ren nods his head. He is _not_ Snoke. He is not a jailor, a trapper, training and unleashing wild dogs. He does not manipulate puppets for a play but _acts_ in it. He will finish what his grandfather started and unite the galaxy as an empire. He will have power and strength and with it…with it…

_You’ll have nothing._

The voice is not taunting or biting but careful. It is low, cautious, and Kylo let’s the words sink into his chest, carve its way through flesh and muscle until they are firmly inside him. “I won’t. I’ll have the galaxy. That is the opposite of nothing.”

There is no response, but Kylo’s own mind turns. He has power now. He has so much strength, so much unbidden contact with the Force and it has left him with what? He does not feel hollow but too full. Too much conflict and choices and overwhelming _chaos_ that he just wants gone. He has tunneled himself, restricted thoughts and action towards this sole mission because maybe then, maybe then with focus his entire being would not be in complete disarray. That if he had this task, this mission, he could cut off everything else crawling and biting at him to _choose._

He chose neither. Not the Jedi. Not the Sith. He chose himself and that same magnetic promise of freedom.

_Did you?_

He’s annoyed now. He never asked for this—this power, this overabundance of midichlorians or whatever the fuck has led him to be this way. Yes, he picked neither path. He is no Jedi Knight. He is no Sith Lord, waiting for some apprentice to train, some dark embodiment of everything for him…

His hands are pale white, and he flexes them, feeling a tinge, a remembrance of hot contact. He remembers it gloved now, outstretched, waiting for her to reach out and touch her, so _sure_ that she would.

“I wouldn’t have done that to her.” There is nothing but silence, and Kylo feels the anger bloom inside of him. “That’s not why! That’s not why I wanted her!” He’s outraged, and his hands grasp at his hair before slamming on the console.

He is the Dark Side. He knows it, feels the rabid, greedy fury of the Force wind in him even now. He gave himself to the Dark, to sink his teeth in that raw power, but not to be a Sith.

_Then why let it consume you? Why is this your choice?_

Because it’s who he is deep down. His mother saw it. His father. His uncle.

Because of Snoke and the whispers in the night.

Because the Light is too bright and daunting and he cannot live up to it. He cannot be the shining Jedi Knight people had thought he would be. There is darkness in him. There has always been darkness in him, and how can he be good when there is something inside so intensely bad? How do you banish something so completely apart of you?

And the hum whirrs louder, powerful. He feels hands on his shoulders, though one is significantly warmer than the other. But it is his own voice that breaks the air, his own mind that opens, buds, and suddenly he is undoubtedly sure. “You don’t.”

.

.

This apartment is abandoned.

Chewie takes her up the floors of the skyscraper, the elevator zipping so incredibly fast that her ears do not have the time to pop from the pressure. She is breathing hard, her fingers flexing and opening in a nervous twitch. But Chewie is worse. He stands lower, shoulders hanging over his chest, the weight of the bag on his back seeming to drag him down even more. Rey grabs his hand. “We don’t have to.”

The Wookiee disagrees completely. They have to do this. He has to remember. He has to show her.

Rey worries that they wouldn’t be able to get inside, but the metal door to the room is melted away, the keypad blasted open, fried and old. Chewie taps the box carefully, but no electricity surges. He laments. This wasn’t secure enough. He should have made it better.

“Would that have made a difference?”

The Wookiee shakes his head. Sympathizers would have made their way somehow.

The apartment was Leia Organa’s and, at one time, Han Solo’s. He never did want to stay in one place, Chewie says. He wanted the _Falcon_ and if somehow he could get his wife and son there too, that would be perfect.

“I can’t imagine Leia agreeing to that.”

She didn’t. So they had this entire floor when the Senate was established in Hanna City. This was a year after Endor. This was their home as newlyweds.

There are bookcases, tables, armoires turned over. Trash is all over the floor, and she sees torn New Republic flyers scattered in the mess. This place has been ransacked twice or ten times over. Anything considered valuable is gone, and Rey wonders why no one has done anything about the place.

Leia still owns it, apparently. It is not the government’s to do anything with.

“Then why hasn’t she…” Her toes brush a frame holding flickering holo. She feels her fingers tinge. She wants to fix it, but Chewie pushes away her hand.

She nods in acknowledgment and tiptoes over the debris. There’s a rancid bite in the air, but Rey ignores it and continues her shuffle. There is broken glass and bent metal, even more holos though the power in them has long since died out. “When did Leia run?”

When no one was taking the First Order seriously. The Senate didn’t believe her, didn’t think that a new threat was uprising.

Chewie pauses and walks down the corridor with Rey following. He looks at the master bedroom, wrecked, destroyed.

Some of the people who did this…they weren’t all First Order. When they found out who Leia’s father was, they thought it was their right to destroy it.

She knows nothing truly about Darth Vader except that he killed millions. When the news broke that Leia Organa and Luke Skywalker were somehow related to him, she wasn’t separate from the rest of the galaxy of being confused, dismayed. “Leia isn’t him.”

Chewie disagrees, much to Rey’s confusion, and continues down the hall.

This bedroom is smaller, a twin-sized bed tucked in the corner though the sheets have been ripped from the frame. There are even more books on this floor. And pens and spilt ink. There is broken furniture and in the center of the floor, a small X-Wing fighter model, it’s wing torn asunder from the rampage.

She picks up the model and the bond in her burns heavy and bright. She can see Ben burying his face into the tiny ship. He is ecstatic, overjoyed, but his fingers, though long and thin, are still too indelicate for the model. He lowers his hands and the Force picks up the pieces, easily, incredible fragility and control for someone so young. A piece drops into glue and the model is closer to done.

She sees Ben over ink and paper, him memorizing Aurebesh, his strokes beautiful and perfect. On the floor, Rey kicks the pieces of parchment and is surprised to see other text rippling across the battered pages.

“He’s smart.” It’s the first compliment she allows herself to speak of him, and she knows why Chewie brought her here. “I won’t kill him, Chewie. I thought maybe you wanted to. After Han…”

Chewie howls loudly. That was not Ben Solo. That was not the boy he knew. He thought Ben Solo was dead but she doesn’t, does she?

Rey isn’t sure but she doesn’t say that. She knows what Chewie wants from her. He knows, but does not talk about their bond, and Rey hesitates to say anything at all. _I can’t save him._ She had handed herself over to the First Order, had signed, sealed, and delivered herself to their door to help Ben Solo. But she didn’t help him. She didn’t. And she had no intention of trying again.

When they leave and arrive at the dock, Chewie gives her a small shuttle and hugs her too tightly.

“Where will you go now?”

The Wookiee shrugs. He’ll wait for Finn and Rose but he’s pretty sure that they’ll want to go back to the Resistance. Finn never wanted to leave them in the first place, but the General was firm that they stay separated at the time.

But Finn also might want to find her.

“I know, but he’s better off with the Resistance. He knows how the First Order works. He’s invaluable to them.” She can’t take him with her. He wouldn’t know what she was looking for. _She_ didn’t know, but it is calling something in her blood. “I…I left something on the _Falcon._ Sorry, Chewie, I have to go back and…”

He drops the bag he’s been carrying on the ground in front of her. Rey unfolds the opening and sees the worn books from the Force Tree. She freezes and wonders how the Wookie could possibly know what she had hidden, where she had hidden them. But that doesn’t matter. She wraps it again and slings the oversized bag over her shoulder. “Thank you.”

The shuttle’s keys slip into her hands and she boards the ship. She feels like she’s been bouncing from planet to planet, like she had spent six—no it’s fourteen—years in one place on Jakku and she is now making up for lost time. The shuttle is brand new and shiny. It is customized to the nines, and Rey gives herself a tour of the bathroom, the bedroom, the tiny kitchen, before setting herself down in the pilot’s seat. It’s too high, and she adjusts it down. The glass is flat, not coned like the _Falcon_ , and she looks at the positions of the knobs and buttons before setting the coordinates for Ahch-To.

The black curtain of space is around her in seconds before the ship maneuvers itself into hyperspace. Rey relaxes before standing and turning from the bridge. She’s hungry, starving, and she walks down the metal floor languid and sore.

Then there is something around her, a disturbance, a new energy. Her intuition heightens, but she is not combative. She welcomes the sudden pull of the Force and Kylo is across from her, fully dressed this time. He lowers his hand, his mouth opening slightly before his shoulders relax. He’s hesitant, stiff, and she mirrors his reluctance. He eyes her up and down. “Not planning to attack me?”

She shakes her head. The words are caught. There is something different about him, something lighter, easy. Rey takes a step forward, half-expecting Kylo Ren to take a step back. He doesn’t. “I’m sorry about your friend.”

“She wasn’t…are you sorry?” He shakes his head. It is too real. She can see the cords in his neck tense, his hair frizz and rub against his cheek with the movement. It is hard to believe that this is just the Force, that this not corporeal, not _physical_. It feels that way. It feels so incredibly carnal, and it takes specific thought to remember to breathe. “She was my knight.”

“A Knight of Ren?” She thinks of the insignia from her coat and it makes sense. “There are seven of you.”

“Six now.” He says quickly before taking a step closer. “How do you know that?”

“I saw you…them.”

“How?”

“In a dream.” She doesn’t want to talk about it anymore, surprised she even told Kylo this much. “I would be sorrier if she wasn’t trying to kill me.”

“Do you have those often?”

“Dreams?”

“Of me.” His voice is even and he takes another step. It takes everything and more for Rey to hold her ground, though she doesn’t know which direction she would choose. She sees him suddenly in that red room, hand reaching, begging, the smell of blood and fire taking over her senses. She thinks about what would have happened if she had taken it. If she... “I have dreams about you.”

“Us together?”

“Yes.”

“In the middle of a storm?”

“Yes.” His eyes are wider but his voice does not sound nearly as surprised as she feels. Her chest is heavy. It’s harder, so much harder, to breathe now and she allows herself another step so that they are both almost in the middle of the bridge. She can see his face easily now, the scar she created lighter than it had been. She sees the sweat bead on the top of his brow, the dark purple circles highlighting his eyes and alerting her that he hasn’t been sleeping.

She has not slept well either. “Have you been talking to me?”

Kylo quirks an eyebrow. “I’m talking to you now.”

“No…before.”

“When you were in public and interrupted my shower? Or do you mean when we were both trying to kill each other?”

“We’re always trying to kill each other.”

His smile is low, loose at her joke, and she can’t believe she even made it. “That’s fair.” She notices his gloves are off when he pauses to run a hand through his black hair. The smile is gone and now he looks grim, tense, and…and nervous. “What have you been hearing?”

“Nothing.” She definitely does not want to discuss this, but Kylo is recalcitrant.

“What, Rey?”

“I haven’t.” She shakes her head, buns loose and pulling on her scalp. “I haven’t heard any…”

“I hear voices too.” He is in front of her now, no longer approaching her guardedly but full on. She feels his breath and it is real and powerful, but Kylo Ren is _scared._ “I’ve heard voices for years.”

“It’s...fulfilling.” Her hand raises. She touches him and he’s solid, warm. “It’s…”

“Mesmerizing?”

“Yes.” Her palm falls flat on his chest and smooths on the wool of his tunic, curling over his collarbone. He is hard under her, muscle and power and heat. “I’m afraid.”

His voice is low, eyes lidded. “It’s not the Light.” He brushes her cheek, pushes her straying brown hair past her ear, the pad of his ring finger following the curve down to the lobe. Her spine is all electric, burning. “You need to stay away.”

And then he is gone. The heat of his body leaves her, and she is alone gasping for air.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all :) This fandom is absolutely INCREDIBLE.


	6. Remembrance

She dreams of him again and they are standing in that storm. She once thought it meant he joined her, that he had come back to the Light, but now she isn’t so sure. The darkness had been calling her, so vividly, and she wants to answer that part of herself. She wants to feel the wind wrap around her, sand moving away from them with the sheer control of the Force. She wants that feeling, that feeling of serenity of passion, and utter and complete happiness. Because in those brief fleeting moments between slumber and wakefulness, she is _happy_.

And she has no idea what side she was on.

 _I can’t save him._ She knows it’s true. She can’t be his redemption, his rescuer. And maybe she wasn’t supposed to.

But the call to the Dark is both tempting and dangerous. The voice in her head is insidious, and Kylo is…warning her. She needs to read more. She knows nothing about the Jedi besides stories and what Master Luke briefly told her. Nothing felt right. She needed more.

Ahch-To is blazing blue, a complete contrast with the blackness of space. There’s doubt in her brain, even as she sees the water planet coming closer and closer to her ship. Should she have stayed with Finn? Brought him with her? Should she have found the Resistance?

No. This is right. She cannot explain it, but her gut told her to come back and so she did. This is where she is meant to be.

Her ship lands easily on a flat opening at the top of the cliffs. She grabs her saber and the borrowed bag from Chewie, and lowers the ramp to the island. She feels it immediately as her feet touch ground. The ocean. The grass. The rocks and dirt and bones. She feels _everything_ , and all of her wants to siphon that energy and give it to Ren. _He needs to see this._ Rey closes her eyes. The bond isn’t there but still she wraps it around her and the Force. _He needs to feel this._

She exhales deeply and walks on, the bag on her back too long for her but she makes due. The path to the main temple and Lanai village is steep. She keeps her legs moving, dragging the bag more often than not.

A crowd of Caretakers cease their talking when she comes back to the village. The sentient fish look at her, stock-still, and sigh.

“I, uh. Sorry about all the trouble before.”

She expects the Caretakers to huff and scurry away. That was usually what they did in her presence. But none of them look angry or even annoyed with her.

_That’s different._

Eventually, one of the Caretakers approaches her and offers a webbed hand. “Oh, um.” Rey lowers her bag to the ground and grabs it. It is wet, almost slimy, but she doesn’t comment. “Okay then.”

They walk further into the village and then higher and away. They travel deep under caves and ridges until finally, the path opens up to a small space overlooking the wide expanse of ocean. One of the twin suns is crested, directly vertical in the sky, and Rey drops the Caretaker’s hand when she sees the piece of fabric on rock.

“Master Luke.” She swallows before walking forward. The cloth is thin and worn but still somehow warm when she touches it. She wants to take it, carry it with her and back to the village below, but instead she lays it down, flat on the stone, and climbs a top it. Her body falls into Lotus, but she cannot close her eyes, cannot clear the thoughts of worry and sorrow and sadness from her. The ocean is crashing, loud and violent below her, and she tastes salt on her tongue. “You were here for a reason. Please, tell me.”

There is nothing but the rush of water and her own unsteady heartbeat. There is silence and a too hot sun, and suddenly she feels the tears roll over and down onto the cloth below.

And then a tug, a sharp tug from behind her. Rey turns and sees the Lanai female. Her fish eyes are unblinking and she pulls again, almost tossing Rey from the rock.

“I’m sorry! I mean no disrespect! I just…”

The Caretaker rolls those fish eyes and tugs again before gesturing with her hand, as if to say, “Follow me.”

_What?_

She complies. Immediately. Rey follows the Caretaker back, away from Luke’s cloak and past the village once again. The other Lanai stop their work of cleaning and building and follow them both all the way to the remains of the Jedi Temple.

It’s old. Very old. It is the type of structure that had Rey almost kneeling in reverence at first glance. Even after the passage of time, the structure is solid, only the slight decay of the outer rocks betraying its true age. There are turrets surrounding the main antechamber, but despite the internal feel of grandeur in her bones, the actual temple is demure and prosaic, dressed all in grey.

The Caretaker does not take a second look at the building, and Rey rushes to follow, the rest of the Lanai village behind her. She makes no noise when she stops in the center and points to the symbol on the floor, the mosaic circle the most ornate part of the room.

It’s a man and a saber created by tiny stones. He is holding the blade upright, the vertical line dividing the symbol in two—one side white and the other black. He sits in the middle—a combination of those colors, a bridge between them both. Rey kneels until she is on the floor and grazes the symbol with outstretched hands. And then there is a _rush._ The Force is immense around her, calling, filling her with energy and potential, making the hair on her neck stand and her mouth run dry. She looks at the Caretaker who bows fully, swiftly, before touching the line with her small hand. Rey nods. She understands now. This place was never a temple for the Jedi Order she knew. 

This is something different.

.

.

The earth is still scorched under his feet, and he has to wonder if somehow, someway, the Force has decided to taunt him. The huts are standing like burnt-through wicks of a candle. The air is heavy, clouded, and if he closes his eyes he can still smell the ash, the blood, the _rage_ in all of them.

He doesn’t know what he should do, but he is here now and the medallion begins to hum again. His cape flaps behind him in the rough wind, and Kylo lights his saber. This place has him on edge. It always has. It takes almost all his focus to cease the memories from rising again as he moves towards the ash-heap.

_I did this._

He did. He had burned this temple to the ground, and if given the chance, he would do it again.

_Would I?_

The sun is hidden behind the blanket of grey clouds, and Kylo…he doesn’t know. If Skywalker hadn’t attacked him, if he had gone to him, talked to him about the voices in his head, would he have done this?

Maybe.

He never could sell himself completely to the Jedi Code. There was too much conflict boiling inside him, and the call of peace, serenity never saved him.

The black scars of dead heat mark the once white stone. It’s tall, harsh, and so dark that it stains Kylo’s glove. He pauses at the entrance of the Jedi Temple. He had been a boy when he was first brought here. He had been ten and the whispers were already in his head.

He doesn’t know when Snoke started, but he knows why Snoke chose him. He is the grandson of Darth Vader. He is half Skywalker and the Force has always been at his beck and call. Born of two heroes of the Rebellion, he was meant for greatness in the Light. How incredibly poetic if that light could be corrupted? If that light could be extinguished and dragged to the Dark Side?

The Light. The Jedi Code.

There is no emotion so isolate yourself, live life as a hermit. Alone.

There is no passion so wake your nephew in the middle of the night and murder him.

All peace and serenity and _knowledge_ when they live in ignorance.

It’s bullshit.

Kylo listens to the medallion at his chest, and it soothes him, lowers the fury below a boiling point. He walks through the middle of the wreckage, never bowing, the dust flying around him in a grey cloud. There’s an altar in the back. It’s also carved of white stone, and he scoffs at the sheer admiration given to the item on top. It’s a stone box. A simple stone box of the same material, and Kylo Ren moves the lid away.

He wonders why Luke hadn’t taken it, if the fires were too much but then, why not return? Kylo looks at the object, conflicting emotions of wonder and hatred eating at him.

_Take it._

His hand wraps around it, pulls it firmly to his chest.

_It’s yours._

He exhales. The Force comes easily once again, and the blade ignites green.

.

 .

The symbol is not in any of the books. She flips through them all once, twice, five times but there is no clear image of the man in black and white. Rey know what it means though. She does not need a text when the image is there, burning in her mind even when her eyes are closed. She does not need any writing to decipher the tug in her chest, the deep, soothing whisper of _balance, balance._

Luke was trying to teach her that. He was not denouncing the way of the Jedi, just the way that the present world understood them. He was denouncing the Code, the myopic vision that only half of the Force should be valued, worshiped. There is pain and healing. There is power and weakness. Life and death.

 _Dark and Light_.

It is her second day on the island, and she hikes on her own to the temple from her borrowed hut in the village. There must be answers there, teachings that she had not yet learned from Luke. Her brown eyes catch the symbol on the floor—two parts of a whole being—and she feels a hollowness in her. Loneliness maybe. It’s an empty pull kind of feeling, but it is certainly not the first time Rey has felt it, so she pushes the feeling away.

There is no altar in this temple. The domed roof is multiple layers, stacks of stone on top of each other, the breaks supported by pillars. The light of the morning rips through, casting diagonal shadows all across the floor. This place has nothing but rock walls and black and white mosaic rippling like waves.

There are cracks in some of the mosaics some of them larger than the ball of her fist. She is certain the Caretakers have done all they can but this place is so ancient and time is unrelenting. Rey walks to the back of the wall, her fingers flowing over a bigger, deeper indentation. “How do I do this?”

She can count her lessons of proper Jedi training on one hand. But the Force is there, always there, and she sits in the middle of the shadows in meditation.

She senses the energy of the island, of Ahch-To. It is perfect. Everything counter-weighted. In this push and pull, there is sheer harmony created from a beautiful blend of chaos. Her chest fills with this feeling, this model of the Force as it should be. It runs deep in her veins, her core, and she glows, hums with it. But there is a whisper, a tug, asking her for more. Asking her to look beyond.

The light moves across her face and she can feel outside of Ahch-To. The Western Reaches. The Core. The Outer Rim. She _feels_ it around her and her fingers dig into the stone, quickly drawing blood.  It is falling. The galaxy is slipping, weighted, so incredibly out of balance like a pendulum desperately trying to swing. There’s too much push or pull. Too much darkness bulldozing, overpowering the weakening flicker of light.

“The First Order.”

Yes. The First Order. The First Order was created from the Dark. But the Resistance was made in counterbalance. The Resistance was supposed to have stronger light.

Her? She wets her lips, the focus, the connection fading. No. Not her. That was not supposed to be her destiny.

The light is gone, covered with clouds, and soon it is raining. It drizzles, pushed through the sides of the temple and it tastes like salt. Like tears.

Her mind slips to the wet rain of her memory. Of another temple different than this. The water mixes with the dust of falling ash. And she can smell it. She can smell the fire and seared flesh. She is scared, confused and she runs away. She runs, runs, runs until she slips on the washed mud of the ground. The rain is deafening around her and she curls her knees to her chest, sobbing. _I didn’t ask for this. I didn’t._

Then there is a man approaching her. The beige of his robes now singed from the fire, now deep brown from mud and blood. He doesn’t see her. She hopes and pleads and begs that he doesn’t see her, but he does. He sees her and he is walking to her, spear heavy in his hands.

She tries to start, to run, but her ankle twists and burns with pain. She moves it again. She needs to get out and away from this place of temples and code and now death. That man had promised her he’d help her. He’d help her understand why she could do certain things. Why the other scavengers would move away from her territory when she simply asked. Why, sometimes, when there was something so far away and out of her reach she could just _will_ it and it would be in her hand.

She thinks she will die here. She will die here. The spear crests over her, too tall and heavy for her to resist. She tries. She tries to will it away, and the man stops, stutters but pushes through it, pushes the spear higher and higher again until it is falling, crashing, cutting through the wet, heavy air.

But it never hits her. The force of the object never comes and she opens her eyes and sees the attacker, frozen, helpless, and then catapulting away in a single hand flick from a different man. Her eyes are wide and catch the blue of the saber, and she feels herself breathe again. Blue is not red. She knows this. She has heard the stories, even as an abandoned slave on Jakku.

His hair is sticking to the sides of his face, but he is dark, shadowed in the rain. His voice cracks when he speaks. “You don’t belong here.”

“Do you?”

He swallows and cuts the energy from his saber, the blue light gone, extinguished. He’s shouting over the roar of the shower, the bellow of thunder. He shouts to the dark figures still watching the flames. “Who can fly!? Who can fly in this damn storm!?” The man turns back to her hoarse and resigned. “Where are you from?”

“Jakku.”

He curses before looking up at the sky, attaching the saber to his hip. His hand raises in front of her face. “You will follow me to Jakku. I will leave you there, and you will wait but forget everything about this place and me. You will not follow me back. You will not try to find who left you.”

Something in her brain counters, resists, but the words carve through her until she repeats, “I will follow you to Jakku. You will leave me there, and I will forget everything about this place and you. I will not follow you back. I will not try to find who left me.”

“Good. Perfect.” His tunic is wet, soaked through and grey against his skin. He doesn’t offer a hand or turn to see if she’s following.

But she is and the memory is there and it blooms fully in the present, whatever mind trick reduced to nothing as the Force surges around her.

 _Does he know?_ Rey traces her neck, the beads of water racing down her collarbone. She knows. She suddenly understands everything. Why she was not a slave anymore. Why she had been so afraid of the Force, the power within her for so long. Why she had sat in that desert and waited for someone who was never, ever coming back.

She was waiting for Ben Solo and Ben Solo had died that night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I originally did not want to connect them in any way other than the Force-Bond (because isn't that just fanfic-y enough?) but when I try to think about Rey's back story...it just doesn't make that much sense. Though I am maybe in the minority when I say that I ADORE that she is not some Kenobi (and obvs Skywalker...for different reasons).
> 
> Anyway, thanks for reading :)


	7. Legacy

The _Absolution_ is the _Supremacy_ cloned and made almost twice as large. It was docked outside of Cantonica, and Kylo easily traces the new coordinates back to the dreadnought, the ship's cloak rippling at his signal.

Luke Skywalker’s lightsaber is next to him. He has not touched it since he dropped the thing on the shuttle, and even now, he wants to move away from it. It’s a simple saber. An older model for sure, but the history embedded shakes him, makes him remember his old master with too little anger.

This is what would have killed him. If he had woken a minute, a second later, this is the blade that would have snuffed him out. This was the darkness held within his old master, his uncle, and though the memory once filled him with unadulterated fury, he did not feel it now.

There was darkness inside Luke Skywalker. There was emotion and power in a master of the Light.

The shuttle hovered and waited for the hangar door to open. He was not welcomed back to the dreadnought. He waited for the shuttle ramp to lower, and Kylo Ren walked off, peering briefly at the surroundings, the millings of his troopers before cutting his pace in front of a lieutenant. “Where is General Hux?”

The lieutenant’s upper body stutters. “Supreme Leader!”

The battalion behind him is frozen besides the whispers.

Kylo eyes them before turning back to the lieutenant. “Take me to General Hux. Now.”

“Sir, yes sir.” The trooper bows and turns on his heel, leading Kylo out of the dock and to the elevator.

Snoke had a throne room in the _Supremacy._ It was in the direct middle of the dreadnought, safe and protected from any exterior hits the massive ship could take. Ren swallows when the trooper hits the central floor, of where that room would be if his old master had taken the  _Absolution_ as his own. The soldier’s fingers shake until the elevator opens again and Kylo walks out. “Thank you. I know where it is from here.”

The words seem to stun the trooper, but he’s nodding his head rapidly, helmet almost falling off as the elevator doors sing close again.

The hall to what would be Snoke’s throne room is long and filled with the smallest bit of electric light. Kylo does not want to be here. He thinks to the medallion in his pocket, the other saber hidden within his cloak, and he feels anxious. _You must keep fighting._ The thought feels hollow but he persists. _There will not be peace in this world until the Resistance is gone, until complete order is restored._

That sounds right, better. That sounds like what he wants—order, stability. The galaxy is in disarray. The New Republic ineffective. The Galactic Senate useless. But the First Order isn’t. It has the power and the willingness. It could right the galaxy, shuffle it into a new way and path.

His mind slips to Rey then. Of her and Luke Skywalker. Han Solo. Leia Organa.

His fists clench and the door to the red room reveals a room that is not red, but stark white. The tiles are a reflective black, the table also long and obsidian, catching the glow of the red lights hanging above and to the sides.

It is a long, large room. Cavernous. Cold. There is no throne at the end. No steps. Only the large table and chairs. Hux stands out from the group of his other generals and captains. He seems to be tracing around the table, his steps slow, purposeful, but his body stops when he sees Kylo. “Ah, Supreme Leader.” He bows, eyes never dropping. “So kind of you to finally join us.”

He ignores the sarcasm and glances around the room. His knights are there, fully armored and armed. Kylo steadies his hand. There are two spaces open at the table of his men, one on the left and closest to the door, and the other at the head of the table, the place where Snoke’s throne would be. He raises his chin, gestures with his hand to his general. “Won’t you sit?”

There’s silence in the room. The men already seated fidget, squirm, and General Hux’s face contorts slightly before he moves directly to the chair on the left.

Kylo walks behind his seat, cape flickering against the white of the walls. “So far Hux.” He moves completely to the end of the table, at the head. There’s a datapad there, a half full glass of water. “You are my right-hand man, aren’t you?”

“Supreme…”

He whips his hand against the glass, shattering it on the floor, the crack echoing violently across the chamber. Kylo stiffens before sitting. “What have we been discussing?”

There is no answer right away. He looks to his knights but none of them move to speak either. He glowers and picks up the datapad. “You want to rebuild Starkiller?”

“It’s an option.” Hux swallows, but his shaking voice is soon steady. The man has the will of a metal wall. “With Starkiller we held the enemy in our hands. The Resistance will cease its operations if they know that we can snuff out a star system.”

“That’s because the Resistance does not want to rule over dead space.” Kylo turns the datapad off. “I don’t particularly want to either. Have we had any success tracking them?”

“No,” Hux replies. He seems particularly bristled about this. “You wouldn’t have an idea where any of them are, do you?”

He pushes away thoughts of Rey. She was traveling somewhere, but he doesn’t know where. He isn’t sure he would tell Hux if he did. “No. Isn’t that Captain Rolphus’ job?”

Said captain swallows and shakenly grabs a drink from the glass in front of him.

Kylo’s tired. They aren’t getting anywhere. The medallion against his chest is tugging at him, and his head is aching from the lights. “Re-building Starkiller is a mistake.”

There are murmurs, but Hux’s voice broaches them all. “If we rebuild Starkiller, we could control the Core. We can remove Coruscant, Chandrila.” He almost smiles at the last name, but Kylo doesn’t move, doesn’t take the bait.

“I said no.”

“Then what, _Supreme Leader_ , do you suggest we do? Wait for the rebels to bang on our door? For them to sink another dreadnought?”

“There is another way.”

The table turns to the knight. Gaun is masked, spear in hand, but he pushes from the wall to address the table and more specifically Kylo Ren. He can’t see his eyes under the mask, but Kylo nods. “Speak freely.”

The knight straightens the spear, his voice sounding deeper under the distorter. “There is something else that would hold the Resistance in fear and get the upper hand.” His armor clinks as he moves, the metal of his spear grating on the tiled floor. Kylo stiffens. He feels it. The darkness, the unbelievable power of anger and revenge coursing, moving from the knight’s body. The knight is flanked at Kylo’s side and in one fluid motion, he is on the ground, kneeling, mask upright in full ardor. “We restore the old way.”

The words burn electric around him, but there’s confusion amongst his captains. Only Hux has the courage to ask, “And what way is that?”

Gaun waits, still bent on the floor, his look and spear unwavering at Kylo’s side. The energy is palatable, addicting, and Kylo lays his hands flat on the table before exhaling. “The way of the Sith.”

He won’t do it. He looks at Gaun, looks at the anger flowing from his large frame, and he will not. He says nothing else, and the table is talking over each other, some people cheering, others more hesitant with their excitement. Kylo stands, moves away from his knight though he hears the armor behind him. “Supreme Leader.”

“I must think on this.” He leaves the white room first but Gaun is still following him. He does not want to talk more about this. He doesn’t want a new Starkiller but he can’t give himself to that code. “You ask me to revive an order that has been dead before I was born.”

“You are already there.” Gaun removes his helmet to reveal the passion in his blue eyes. “You are strong with the Dark Side. You can have an apprentice.”

He squirms. “And who would that be?”

“Me,” Gaun says flatly. “I could do it."

Kylo sniffs and continues to walk to the elevator. His hands deftly open the door and he turns, waits. “Don’t follow me.”

“Kylo…”

“I can’t, Gaun. Is that what you want me to say? I could not in that room but in truth, I can’t and won’t. We are beyond the way of the Jedi and with that, we are beyond the way of the Sith. I will not do this.”

“Why? Can’t you feel it? It’s there! The Dark Side is right there and you can _take_ it. It can be yours and then we…the First Order would have so much power. They would fear you. They would follow you without question. Isn’t that what you _want_?”

The doors to the elevator open and he steps in. The knight does not move to follow, and Kylo spits out the word. “No.”

.

.

 Her hut is too dusty that night so she moves her bedroll from the Caretakers outside. They look at her, shaking their heads, but Rey doesn’t care. She rolls the pad out flat, smooths it over with her palms before removing her belt and saber. The Lanai had a fire burning in the middle of the village, and she can smell it still, see the flicker of the amber light even from her own, removed hut. She lets the memory wrap around her again. The rain and Ben. She had been there. Luke had found her, wanted to train her when she was thirteen but her first night, the temple was destroyed.

Did the temple make her think about that night? The rain?”

She is suddenly not tired. Her mind is buzzing and Rey moves to the edge of the cliff to sit and calm herself. She thinks of her bond with Kylo Ren. It confuses her more than ever that it has developed now when she had known him for years.  _I need to read more_. There must be something about it in the texts she had. Her fingers curl over her knees. The darkness has not bothered her in a while, and she allows herself to open again. There is fear. There is so much dread and fear, and she opens her eyes, thinking it is her but then realizing it is the bond.  She reaches out, pulls him closer. She wants to speak with him.

_“Rey?”_

She breathes hearing her name. She wasn’t sure that this would work. She has never called upon him before. “It’s me.”

_“This…this isn’t a good time.”_

That seems like a ridiculous thing to say. Was there ever a good time for them to talk? Did he consider this a _good_ thing? Maybe. She…sometimes did. “You seem afraid.”

He’s next to her then, and Rey quickly stands. He’s so tall, and she will not be towered over more than necessary. Kylo’s face is pale, thin. His arms are crossed and he waits for her to speak.

“Where are you?”

He’s surprised by the question. “With the First Order. Are you with the Resistance?”

“No.” She says easily. “I’m alone.”

“Back home?”

She rubs her arm. “I have no home. You know that.”

He doesn’t respond. His mind is hazy, loose. Something is incredibly wrong.

“…Ben?” Rey swallows. He is silent still, and she struggles to recover. “Can I call you that?”

His eyes jerk up. Kylo shrugs. “Am I not a monster again?”

“No.” Rey walks forward. She wants to understand him. The resolve she had seen on Crait is broken, and she wants to dig at it, explore it. This man had killed his father. This man had saved her life. It is confusing, a fragmented composition of a person. “But I want to know why you killed Han Solo.”

His shoulders stiffen. “Why do you care?”

“Because I’ve…” She bites down the impulse but comes out anyway. “I’ve seen your home.”

He looks at her angry, tortured, and she thinks he will approach her, yell at her, but he doesn’t. His back is then facing her but she can see him deeply inhale. “I thought it would free me.”

“Free you?”

“From the Light.” Kylo turns. He’s not angry. He is stolid, hard. “You know the pull of darkness, Rey. Imagine that. Imagine being so buried in it and then something is biting at you. It is clawing at you to come back, screeching and hollowing and you have to get rid of it. You have to do everything in your power to get rid of it.”

She understands. “You can’t go to it fully. You can’t surrender yourself to it.”

“Exactly.” He bites his lip. They are incredibly red. “I’ve tried that before.” Kylo let’s his arm hang at his sides, exposing his chest. “Do you believe me?”

“Yes.” She walks closer to him. They are almost chest to chest, and his warmth exudes from him, blisters the night air with such a strong glow. Rey allows herself to stand in it, to be close to him. “It didn’t work, did it?”

He breathes in again, so deep and full that they actually touch. Kylo holds his hand up and flat, and Rey follows slowly, letting her fingers ghost his own. The man looks at the contact. “No.”

She can barely hear her own voice over the blood rush. “You…you think that will work? Killing the past?”

His eyes lock on to hers and he is quaking, shaking in front of her. He bends forward, so close that his breath touches her. “Can I see you?”

There’s fear in her body. Takodana and the chair. Starkiller and the tree and snow and the bitter burn of his saber. The temple destroyed and on fire. He can’t do that to this place. He can’t do that to _her_. Rey shakes her head, eye contact never breaking.

.

.

He does not sleep for hours after he puts his head on the pillow. The green saber is tucked close by, and the medallion is under his head. It brings no sleep this time.

He has not heard the whispers since Snoke’s death. There is no other pull inside beyond himself, and it’s much, much weaker than before. Rey knew something is upsetting him. She knew, could feel it, and he thinks maybe it is the promise of the Sith that scares her away but no. She does not trust him. And he can’t exactly say he trusts her either.

Kylo shuffles. The sink of loneliness is back in him. Gaun is asking something of him he cannot do, and he waits for the whisper of the Dark to come to him, beg him to take up the mantle.

Darth Kylo Ren.

Darth Ren?

He shakes his head. Gaun would apprentice him. He would sit in the dark on a seat and lead a galaxy of slaves and dust. And then he would be killed. The Rule of Two is at the core of the Sith Code, and he cannot let himself die the same way Snoke did.

He closes his eyes, tastes salt on his mouth. _Where are you?_ He wants to find her. He feels drawn to her more than ever. She understands him. She knows what’s in his head, and he knows she hears it now. _She’s not even trained._

He had been a Padawan for years, a decade. Rey is all raw energy and power. If the darkness has shifted, moved to her, how long would it take for her to fall? How long would it take the Dark to overwhelm her?

But didn’t he want that?

His thoughts break and Kylo is too stirred. She would be just as shattered. She would be torn apart, confused, ripped. Just like him. She would be just like him and he cannot let that happen.

The comm crackles to life in his room, and Kylo answers it immediately, welcoming the distraction of war. “Supreme Leader, your presence is requested on the bridge.”

Out of curiosity, Kylo looks at the chrono. “Now?”

“Yes.” The line is silent and then, “We’ve found Organa.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ya'll are awesome with your kudos. THANK YOU!


	8. Communion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's about to get real. Thanks for reading :)

The red saber works the same as the blue one. She doesn’t know why she thinks it’ll respond differently, that it’ll weigh her down, change her form, but it doesn’t. It is exactly the same.

She trains for three hours in the morning with the lightsaber and then goes into the ocean. There’s a spot far from the village and the harder rocks, and Rey basks in the feel of the water on her toes, of the familiarity of sand so close to something so rare, so beautiful. If she goes deep enough, Rey can meditate. She can float on the top of the water and feel the rhythm under her, the life, the sky, the sea.

It is then that she feels guilty, when she thinks she should have told Kylo Ren where she is. _What if he brought an army?_ She lets herself dry off on the sand, her clothes bake under the suns. He is not some lonely boy, Rey reminds herself. He is responsible for so much death and destruction. He is the leader of a fascist movement. 

The guilt is still there, irrational and whole, and it deepens when she is back in the temple. She looks for patterns in the mosaic, practices the hand techniques in her book, and though she feels full and powerful, she doesn’t know how this is _helping_. She feels isolated, and even worse, useless here. Rey thinks maybe she should call Finn. That maybe she would be of more use to them all back at the Resistance to restore the balance. But every time the thought deepens and changes to action, she is called back to the temple and the symbol on the floor.

She falls back into meditation, of the Force rushing and connecting her to something beyond herself and the island and Ahch-To. It would shove her, push her to see this darkness crowding its space, asking, telling her to help.

_How?_

The Caretakers would bother her then half the time. They would come and grab her, drag her down. They gave her fish, roasted porgs, fruits, patting their stomachs as if to say, _don’t you eat?_

She’s never hungry much, but she would follow, eat, watch them sweep the rock paths, fold her bed. “You don’t have to do that.”

They look up at her with a shrug and continue to do their housework. _Master Luke said they have been here for thousands of years._ She swallows and puts down the roasted bird before approaching a Caretaker. “What did the old masters do here?”

The Caretaker stops her work, pauses, and points to the saber on her belt.

“Anything besides that?”

She then closes her eyes, holding her hands together, and again points to Rey. _Meditation._ Rey frowns. “Anything besides fighting and meditating? Anything related to the temple?”

She looks at the other Caretaker to her right, gestures to her, smiles at her. The creature then turns back to Rey and shrugs, annoyed.  

The girl frowns when she realizes she is being dismissed. The only thing she can think of doing is return to the Jedi texts, so she makes her way back to the her stone hut to read. _Well_ , _that didn’t work._

_._

_._

_They found Organa. They found Organa._

This is not the first time the First Order has found the General of the Resistance. It is not the second or third, but it feels different. He’s sweating as he walks towards the bridge, so much so that he wants to rip off his gloves and throw them on the floor. He doesn’t.

Kylo rushes until he is standing face to face with his general. Hux is there and yawning as are a few of his other captains, including Rolphus. The grey-haired man salutes him. “Sir, we have tracked General Organa to Anoth. We should be there in under the hour.”

“Plan of attack?” Kylo focuses on the hologram showing the planet. Anoth is actually three separate pieces in space, and Kylo rearranges the map so that it’s centered on the only habitable portion.

“We’ll send a garrison of Stormtroopers. I never did get to introduce you to Captain Hallow. He is already on his way with the scouts, and then he will have full command of the garrisons when they raid the base.”

“Is it a full Resistance base?”

“No.” Hux brings up more holos. The images are grainy but it is apparent that there is no full base on Anoth. It looks to be a small town of stone houses, glowing violet in the strange color atmosphere. “It’s a safe house. We don’t expect General Organa to be heavily guarded. Intelligence points to many of their men scattering to different parts of the galaxy.”

“For what purpose?”

“To spark a fire or something else incredibly futile. Supreme Leader, Captain Hallow will be sure that the General is in our custody before the cycle ends.”

Kylo nods and looks closer at the small safe house in the holo. The roof is black. The curtains drawn. “I will accompany the garrison.”

“You’ll…you’ll  _what?_ ” Hux looks much more awake. His eyes bulge, teeth bare.

Kylo does not bother to repeat himself. He has already reattached his belt and saber so he directly heads to the hangar. The _Absolution_ is all energy again. Stormtroopers are dizzy with excitement, the usual slow and easy pace of their march hurried and loose. It has been too long since their embarrassment on Crait, and Kylo could feel that energy too.

There are no X-Wings detected outside of Anoth. Either they were all docked or none had accompanied the General. Kylo still opts for an Upsilon as an escort to the freighter carrying the troopers. He steadies himself in the seat of the ship, locking the belt over him and connects to the Force. He needs it. He needs it now more than ever. The resolve. The focus. He offers himself to it, giving over his body and mind fully just so that his hands stop shaking. He thinks about pushing at their bond, seeing if Rey was there and ready to comply, but no, he can't do that. He can't have her in his head. Not for this. Not for what he was about to do.

This orbit is hard to navigate, but he does it seamlessly. There’s a rush when he dips and spins the Upsilon, dodging meteors and bits of exploded rocks from the other fragments. The black ship cuts through violet atmosphere, and Kylo tenses again, the wave of soothing adrenaline already gone from flying. The ground is covered with snow, looking purple under the iridescent glow of the sky.

His plane lands lightly, gracefully skimming the ground before coming to a complete halt. A lieutenant meets him on the ground and summarizes a second intelligence report. The scouts have already disbanded. There are no X-Wings. No armored artillery. The General is here and _hiding_. “This should be easy, Supreme Leader.”

Kylo waits for the carrier to land, and he is soon flanked by ten other Stormtroopers, their armor painted the same violet tinge of the sky. They rush around him, blasters in hand, and they march foot by foot to the small town ahead.

They are a wall of pastel armor down the street, Kylo leading, a black speck in the midst of the troopers standing side by side. There is no one else in sight. The houses are close, small. There is little to no vegetation or ships or speeders. He peers at a window and the shutters close immediately. _They are frightened. They fear us all._

The black roof is a scar in the purple world. It’s high pitched but old. Tiles are gone, fallen in the thin snowbanks of the street. Kylo directs five of his troopers to the back of the house. The rest he keeps with him.

His breath is racing, pounding, falling out of his lungs as he approaches the door. Kylo reaches for the knob, the bite of falling snow melting on his cheeks. His heart is in his throat hammering, drowning him with the fury of his blood and he pauses. He can do this. He has to do this.  _Open it_.

The door swings easily, slowly, and there is nothing. No noise. No people. The room is vacant and he can hear the confused breaths of the troopers behind him.

Then there’s a rip around a corner, a small, sharp _tick_ right beforethe bomb explodes.

It tears fire around him, wood and rock and metal. It makes his head ring, his brain ricochet against his ears even under the immense strength of the Force barrier.

Ash falls grey-blue in the snow and the house is an inferno, a tower of absolute flame. Ren lowers the barrier and sees he had only covered himself, the lifeless, mangled bodies of his men smelling like burning flesh and bones.  He’s shaking as he walks down the stairs, as his troopers from the back run to meet him, shouting, yelling but he can’t hear them under the ring.

 _Fuck_.

He shakes his head. A lieutenant is still in his face, shouting, and he can see the orange and red dance of the flames create a kaleidoscope on the already purple trooper. It's both achingly beautiful and terrifying. The lieutenant’s shouting for him to go this way. They saw her. She’s escaping! And Kylo Ren lets him lead the way.

They move through the alleys between the small, brittle houses, and he can feel her signature glow radiant white. He overtakes the men in front of them, sound coming back to him already.The General is shouting to her guards. She’s telling them to _go_. Of course, she can’t keep up. How could she at her age? She could not outrun him. Not now. Not today.

He sees her and the saber in his hand glows red. Leia Organa has a blaster already raised.

Her mouth falls open. She is ragged, worn, but the weapon is firm and straight. The saber crackles as the falling snow makes contact, sizzling, evaporated from the sheer intensity. He does not remember when he has last seen her this close. He does not remember how she feels, her voice, and he catches himself from speaking.

“In position!”

The troopers following him kneel down. All of them have their blasters targeted on her. Kylo whips around to the lieutenant. “What are you doing?”

“Our orders are to search and destroy.”

His neck tightens. “This is the General of the Resistance. She is an invaluable asset.”

“Our orders are to search and destroy,” the lieutenant repeats. He can still feel his mother’s blaster trained on his back.

“Who! Who said that!?” He screams, shoves the trooper into the snow. “You take her! Take her back to the ship. She is a fucking _asset._ ”

The troopers don’t sway and the lieutenant does not give any different command. Their blasters are locked, ready, and Kylo hears the trigger fully, a solid, hollow _click._

He raises his hand, the fury and rage and madness in him boiling over. All the shots are stuck in midair and then pushed, rebounded back squarely in the troopers’ chests, the laser melting the armor and flesh with a violent hiss. They all fall, dead, but Kylo is still so, so _angry_. He raises the saber and yells before jamming the blade into the fallen lieutenant’s head.

He’s shaking when he turns around, blade still ignited. The fire in him is still burning something chaotic, and he sees her eyes—the fear and the…the love. He cuts the beam from his saber, and it is only then that Leia Organa lowers her own weapon.

“What are you still doing here?” He breathes, chest over-weighted, curling in. Leia does not move. The blaster collapses on the floor, and she takes one full step forward before turning completely around and running away.

.

.

_“What did the voice sound like to you?”_

“Sorry?”

_“When you were young.”_

Something shifts next to him, and Kylo feels his muscle tense. This is the first time he feels like he was called by the bond, like he had accepted, answered, instead of being pushed and pulled into it. He is in his bedroom on the _Absolution_ flat on his bed, the failed mission hours and hours behind. Intelligence hadn’t counted on a bomb. Kylo told them it took out all the troops. He was alone. He couldn’t catch up to the Resistance.

He turns to the direction of the voice, the feeling of Rey. “When I was young? It sounded…comforting.”

She nods. Rey is on the bed too, her back facing him. She is curling tightly, knees up to her chest, and he wonders if she knows he can see her now. He doesn’t think so. She looks…delicate like this, and he doubts Rey would want that. Not in front of him. “When did it start?”

“I don’t even remember.” He moves his body so that his shoulder touches the metal wall of the ship, but she is still too close, too warm. Something snaps in Rey and she straightens, let’s her legs roll out though her back is still to him. Kylo looks sideways and watches her. She seems nervous, breath hitching and shallow.

“I was lonely too.” Rey’s voice is low in the dark. Kylo watches her, traces the curves from her shoulders to her hips. Her frame is tiny but he could see the muscles in her arms, the strength in her. He remembers her in the snow and how she fought him. He remembers her in the red room. She is fierce and powerful, and he feels vulnerable, raw.

“You grew up alone in the middle of nowhere. You had every reason to be lonely.”

She shifts and he wants to look away, to change his position, but they are eye-to-eye before he can even breathe again. The brown of her eyes move up and down, over his face, his shoulders, and she grabs his hand. It sparks kinetic, and Rey laces her fingers in his, resting the back of the palm on his chest. His heart echoes, bounces and growls against her skin.

“Your hands are cold.”

Rey smiles. “Yours aren’t. You’re warm.”

“You’re outside?”

She nods. “Are you okay? Your heart is so fast.”

He thinks of his mission, the General. “You shouldn’t worry about that.”

“I know.” Rey glances at their hands. “Are there stories about this bond?  Why it happens?”

“You’ve heard how it happens.”

“But do you believe it?” She looks up again, hair moving, blowing from the wind of whatever planet she is on. He wishes he could see her there. He wishes he knew where she was, that she was actually next to him. "I've...I've read about it a little bit. And what Snoke said..."

“I’ve come to think everything Snoke said was a lie.” He licks his lips, mouth dry. There are shadows casting over her face. Clouds, maybe, moving past the moon. “I don’t believe he made this. I…I felt this before.”

“On Takodana.” Something turns Rey on edge. She stiffens, her grip on him loose. “Have you told anyone about this?”

He narrows his eyes, and her body relaxes again. She shifts until her stomach almost touches his waist, the heat between them compressing, pressurized. “I don’t trust anyone.”

“You can trust me.”

“Have you told anyone?”

She pauses and their eye contact breaks. “Yes.”

His breathing grows shorter, heat rising up his neck. “The General?”

“No Just…Finn.”

Kylo removes his hand from hers, shifts his body so that his back is flushed with the wall. Rey leans on her elbow but doesn’t reach for him again. “He doesn’t know what we say. How I…”

“Feel?” He wants to be angry with her, but he feels her guilt, her sincerity flooding him. He had poured over books and books to figure out what this was, how he could get rid of it when he first discovered the bond. If he had someone he trusted, someone to talk to, he may have done the same. “Do you know?”

“No.” She lays flat. He can almost see the stars in her eyes. “I just feel…tired.”

He dares himself to lay his body down next to her, shoulder to shoulder. She is freezing beside him, and he wonders if he could lift the sheet to give to her and protect her from whatever wind she is in. The bond crackles between them, deep, inviting. It is filling him completely, and he lets his fingers play against hers. “Then sleep.”

“I…I can’t.”

“We can try.”

“Together?”

He exhales. The ceiling above him is a dark industrial metal, but for a moment, he thinks he can see a moon. “Together.”


	9. Alteration

She wakes up and the warmth of him is gone and she only feels bitter cold. She reaches across the ground, turning on her bedroll, and sees nothing. The emptiness hits like hard metal, and she tries to remain calm, steady her breathing though it is infinitely harder without him.  _He was never there_. Rey bites her lip. She has so many questions for Kylo Ren. And she often finds herself thinking back to when she was all anger and Kylo was just…curious.

_Why is the Force connecting us like this?_

For the longest time, she did not want to accept that it was. Rey had just barely accepted that the Force was this _being,_ that Luke Skywalker was not a myth, and that at one point in her life, she was being trained as a Jedi. She is strong with the Force, and she regrets the days that she had forgotten it, pushed it aside and away because of too hard memories.

Rey stretches on her bedroll. She does not feel like training with her saber this morning, and she begrudgingly accepts a pink peeled fruit from a Caretaker before racing back to the temple, books and bag in her hand. She takes a sage green book from the oversized bag and goes to the corner of the temple. She likes sitting in the shadows waiting for the beam of light to move across towards her. Rey leans over the book and flips the pages until she finds where she has last left off.

_Connections within the Force._

She had almost skipped this section. She thought initially it would just regurgitate the things she understood the most—that all things are the Force and thus everything is connected and so on and so forth. But no. While it did reiterate that as the only empirical evidence, it was more a chronology of different mental connections between Force users.

She re-reads the passage, seeing if she missed a detail, if there was anything on an external presence connecting two people together like that. A bond was common between master and Padawan, between two masters working together, even, if they had a common goal in mind. But the bond was always a formation of those two people. It was a connection grafted from only two.

 _He knows it too._ Rey closes the book. These are not new answers or revelations. They both know it wasn’t Snoke, and learning about it does not make it any easier. That all these thoughts and emotions are completely her own. It also does not make up for the fact that he isn’t here.

.

.

He needs to handle this insubordination and he needs to do it quickly. The troopers directly disobeyed him and were given a different set of orders. This has never happened to him before. Even before he was Supreme Leader, Kylo operated outside of the normal jurisdiction of the First Order. His word had always been final, absolute, and it grates him that someone was foolish enough to shift his power. _Hux._ He knows it is him. He knows the little rat has been dying to seize power, and Kylo is surprised he had managed to convince a garrison or two to side with him. But despite knowing the traitor, Kylo needs to be smart, careful how he approaches this. He could not denounce Hux in front of everyone. Then the entire First Order would know. They would know that he had let Leia Organa go.

Kylo had arranged for Hux to meet him in the white room. The general seemed unsurprised by the invitation, and he wonders if he knew what this would lead to.

No, he wouldn’t kill him. Not right away. It is undeniable that Hux had spoken to the troopers. No one else has the authority to order a command like that. No one else is so desperate to undermine him so badly. Kylo pulls in his cloak as he walks the path towards the room. He is early, but that is fine.

He moves the door open with the Force, and Hux is already there and seated at the head of the table, his feet resting on the obsidian edge. Kylo bites back his growl. His general looks lax, positively smug. The wall lights glow blood red, refracting crimson against the white walls. His feet echo against the black tile until he stops at the edge of the table.

Figures shift in the corner of his eyes and he sees his knights easily, the black sheen of their armor a stark contrast with the walls of the room. Their presence confuses him—he didn’t ask them to be there but now that they are, he feels more supported, empowered.

Hux yells from across the room.  His voice carries swiftly across the chamber. “Kylo Ren! Good to see you!”

Kylo does not respond. His teeth grit as he waits impatiently for his proper title.

The feet fall from the tabletop to the ground with a sudden clang. Hux straightens in the chair, folds his pale hands in front of him. He speaks, riddled with disgust, venom. “Or do you prefer Ben Solo?”

The knights around him move, posed to attack, and Kylo grips the hilt of his saber. “What is this?” He shouts to Hux and then again to the knights around him, “What is this?!”

“Your ruin.” Hux doesn’t move from his seat. “Your death.”

All five knights careen for him, and Kylo ducks, moves before the blaster fire hits him square on.  He ignites the saber and swings, blocking the flurry of blasts, stepping side ways and arcing the blade fully to block the control baton. He raises a hand, pushing three of the four knights away before rolling, sliding across the middle of the black table and slashing the arm clean off Mullen. He screams, utter terror ripping across the chamber. The blaster collapses, and Kylo ends him with a cut against his neck.

He is surrounded again, balancing between the baton and a crystal broad sword. _Elan, Truff._ He swirls the hilt of his saber between his hands, catching them off guard as he blocks and pushes against the complete fury of his knights. Hux has not moved, not _budged_ from his seat at the end of the room. The anger runs through Kylo’s blood. He so wants to kill him. Slowly. So fucking slowly.

The baton hits his arm and he cringes, shaking away the electricity before barely missing the deadly cut of the electrostaff. There are three men attacking, three of them bombarding, burying him with ruthless attack and attack, and he yells, swipes, cuts away until Elan no longer has his head.

Truff is too slow, his sword easily evaded even with Palv's electrostaff buzzing, cracking above him. He kicks the sword bearing knight away, directly in the chest before spinning and cresting his saber. It falls hard and straight though the staff, the two halves falling loudly on the black floor. “Palv! What are you doing?!”

The knight is frozen across from him. Kylo holds out a hand, pushing Truff against the wall. He had always been the weakest with the Force. “Palv!”

The knight removes his helmet, his red hair ruined, his brown eyes long and misted. “You’re a traitor, Kylo Ren.”

He feels it suddenly, hard and cold. Gaun’s spear is in his right shoulder, and the electricity from the weapon snaps through him until he is deteriorating to the ground. Kylo falls and the lightsaber rolls away from his grip. It’s immediately called up and away to the knight now in front of him, his old friend wrenching the tip of his weapon harder and harder until it touches bone. Gaun has not removed his helmet, and when Kylo looks at his face, all he sees is darkness.

“You’re a traitor to the First Order. We will not follow you.”  Gaun readjusts and tears the spear out with the wet sound of splitting flesh. He tosses his spear away and looks admiringly at the red saber now in his possession. “You have been a failure to everyone. As a Jedi, as a leader. You failed _me_.”

He chokes. The electricity is still causing his muscles to spasm. His wound is not cauterized and he can feel, smell the blood pour from him. “The Jedi Order failed you.” He eyes his lost weapon, the red, burning heat. “The First Order too. Don’t fucking do this, Gaun. I’m sorry about…”

“You’re not!” He screams. The saber cracks, glistens even as he cries. “You should have let me _kill_ her. You know where she is! I hear you, _Ben._ I hear you say her name! You _fucking_ talk to her!”

Ren swallows though his eyes don’t leave the saber. He holds a hand over his heart and then moves it to his shoulder, checking to see if the wound had gone all the way through. It hasn’t. “That’s not…”

“You didn’t kill Leia Organa.” Hux is walking towards them. His pace is level, _satisfied._ “ You let her _escape_. You think Captain Hallow just left? That no one else could be there? Watching you?”

 _Fuck_.  His left-hand lowers away from his shoulder and deep into his cloak. The wound hurts. It’s raw and uneven, and Kylo feels the wet blood start to stick against his skin.

“You don’t deserve any of this." Gaun looks admiringly at the saber and then his body and the thickening pool of blood. "You are only here because of your name, a birthright you had no part in. You don’t deserve it. You don't deserve this power!”

Kylo breathes, pained. “I don’t.” His fingers feel the cold of metal. “No one does.”

Gaun’s cries rip through the chamber, and the gleam of his lightsaber is then rioting towards Kylo's skull. Kylo exhales at the crash, the friction causing sparks when the red meets the green energy of Luke’s blade.

Gaun back-steps, shocked, but is then racing towards him again. Kylo maneuvers on his elbow, slowly back-pedaling before he can make himself stand upright. His right arm is too pained, and he relies on his left to parry, push before he can gather enough of the Force to send the three remaining knights and Hux rocketing to the back of the room.

He tries to switch saber hands, but the pain is too much. He can’t do this. He can’t win. Sprinting, he lets loose the weight of his cloak, kills the energy from the saber, and heads to the elevator. His chest hurts, tears itself from the pain, the loss of blood, but he holds his left arm out in attempt to hold the door down as he waits at the end of the walkway. The door shakes, spurts up before slamming back against the floor. _Come on._ He closes his eyes, feels the medallion against his chest burning into him until his thoughts flash. The ocean. The sand. Harmony. Chaos. Life. Death. It’s easier now for the door to remain shut and Kylo holds it until the elevator doors close completely in front of him.

 _Come on. Come on._ He pushes the button immediately, letting himself exhale in complete, deafening  _agony_ from his wound. It feels like minutes, hours before the door opens to the hangar.

_“Ben!”_

He is still sprinting. He can’t talk. He needs to get out. The hangar is too crowded. People keep stopping him, asking him if he needs help, but he just needs to _get out_.

_“I feel…so much pain. Is that you?”_

“Go away.” He sneers. An Upsilon is there, still attached to the fuel tank. Troopers seem to be marching towards him, and he doesn’t have any time. He rips the nozzle out of the ship. Worry, nervousness, concern rushes through him.

_“What’s happening? Why can’t I see you?”_

“I don’t want you to. I…” The ramp to the ship opens easily and he is taking blaster fire as soon as it closes again. “Fuck.”

_“Ben?”_

He can’t get out. The realization sinks deep in him. He will get nowhere. The dreadnought will blast him out of the sky as soon as he leaves the base.

_“Something’s wrong.”_

He peers out the glass of the Upsilon and Hux is there, the remaining Knights of Ren by his side.  

_“You need to get out of there.”_

He turns the ship on though he doesn’t know why. His breath fogs the glass. “I have nowhere to go.”

_“Ahch-To.”_

She says it so quickly, so abruptly, he thought she may have sneezed. “What?”

_“51.77 by -10.54.”_

“Rey?”

_“The coordinates…Come to Ahch-To, Ben.”_

“I…will.” He breathes. Ahch-To. His ship is taking even more blaster fire, and he still doesn’t know if he can get there. He still doesn’t know how he’d ever leave the dreadnought’s orbit. “Do you think…” He swallows, steadies his hands. He is a better pilot than this, and he can feel Rey, anxious, concerned, _hopeful_. “I’ve heard you can launch a ship straight to hyperspace.”

_“It’s not recommended. Your fath…It’s been done before but it can easily rip wherever you're docked apart.”_

Kylo pushes the button. The ship is charging, rushing to gain speed. “That’s alright.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just want to give everyone reading my undying thanks :)


	10. Solace

He peels the blood-stained tunic from his chest, screaming from the pain as his shoulder extends. There are no TIE fighters following him, not that they could have. He is, to his sudden displeasure, too good of a pilot to rip a hole through the _Absolution_ , but his stunt would be impossible for any other ship in the hangar to duplicate.

_“Ben!”_

He eases, calms as he hears Rey touch the bond. She’s still there, always been there though he had been silent minutes into hyperspace.

_“I know you’re there. Ben, please.”_

Kylo ignores the voice. He’s fading quickly from the blood loss. He needs bacta. He needs…sleep maybe. No, no. Bacta. He needs bacta and finds the emergency kit in the utility closet. The gel is soon all over his shoulder, his back, his chest. He feels the cool burn immediately. The threads of his muscles are starting to knit themselves together again, and he finally allows his body to calm down.

He doesn’t let Rey completely in. She can’t see him broken and bloody like this.

_“Ben? What happened?”_

She pushes against his head incredibly anxious. Kylo wipes the remaining gel on his pants. “I’m fine.”

He feels her hesitation. _“I…good. You’re coming here?”_

Kylo drags himself to the pilot’s seat. He doesn’t sit down completely, lowering himself to the edge of the chair so his shoulder can’t touch the back. His mind is catching up, finally digesting what just happened on the _Absolution._ Hux at the table, smug and sharp. His knights circling him and trying to kill him. He…he killed Mullen. Elan. He slaughtered them in that white room.

Kylo’s chest is heaving. He feels weak, faint, but focuses on the rush of blue hyperspace. Then there is a cool breeze and the taste of salt suddenly on his tongue. “Is that okay?”

She laughs and it is open and fluid in his head. “ _Yes, it’s okay. Just get here soon, Ben.”_

Ben.

Katara. Mullen. Elan.

Truff. Palv. Gaun.

None of them had called him Ben in good faith for years, and he wants to correct her. That isn’t his name. He’s not Ben Solo. He can’t be Ben Solo now. Ben Solo wouldn’t have done this. He wouldn’t have followed Snoke, tried to kill Master Luke, killed his friends, killed his fucking _father._

He’s so incredibly light-headed. He can’t even feel properly angry or sad or confused. He just wants to sleep.

_“No…you have to land this thing. Ben, stay awake.”_

“I…”

_“Talk to me.”_

He inhales deeply before nodding and steadying his hands back on the console. “About what?”

_“Chandrila. Could you…could you do that?”_

He could still remember the view outside his window. There were tall towers of silver and gold that seemed never ending towards the sky. He could smell baking nuts on street corners, the damp alleys, the cloying sweetness of his mother’s perfume. The way crowds of people would sift and open like waves. And all of that absolute, pure _energy._ It…it had been awhile. “I think I can.”

 _“Good.”_ There’s relief in her voice, and he could feel warmness budding in his chest. _“I’d like to hear about it.”_

She’s laughing at his calligraphy set when he sees the blue sphere and his ship breaks away from hyperspace. “It’s…very blue.”

_“You’re here!”_

The connection fizzles, lost as Rey is distracted, and he shifts his focus now on trying to remember how to land a starship. His brain and muscles are pleading with him to rest. He has done too much today, lost too much blood and the adrenaline that should be flowing when his ship breaks atmo isn’t there.

Kylo relies on muscle memory. Decelerate speed at a constant rate. Flatten out. Find somewhere smooth to land. It’s all instinct and feeling that drags him to one of the many islands dotting the blue world’s surface. It is instinct that allows him to lower the ship and land it safely despite one of the wings catching on the edge of a rock. It is instinct that moves his hands to turn off the Upsilon completely and lower the ship’s ramp. And it is pure exhaustion that pulls whatever energy he had remaining and knocks him out cold.

.

.

He hears the fire before he feels it. There’s a sharp crack of splintering wood and then the flume of heat coils through him. It wraps around his torso, and he realizes he is flat though positioned on his left side. There’s a tug on his right shoulder, someone fixing new bandages on his skin, and Kylo leans in.

“Rey?”

A wet cloth is applied to his aching head. He sighs though his eyes are still closed with sleep. The fire continues to flow through him, and he reaches to touch the hand applying the cloth. “Thank…”

It’s wet and slimy, and he thinks she is covered in bacta until he feels the small web between the fingers. Kylo jerks back, shocked until he opens his eyes and sees large globe pupils staring back at him. The…amphibian blinks at him and checks to see if the bandages have moved.

“Who are you?”

She doesn’t respond and soon there are other identical creatures moving from around the fire. One offers him a glass of a green liquid. He drinks it slowly, gagging a bit at the rich cream. His chest is still bare. His shoulder is still tight and hurting, but Kylo pulls himself completely so that he is sitting up. “Do you know someone named Rey?”

More blinks. The creature turns to an identical one to her left who then points beyond the fire and away from the village Kylo suddenly found himself in. His mind is whiplashed from the familiarity. He’s…he’s seen this before. The stone houses like honeycombs. The smell of salt and water. The feeling of unabashed energy.

It is night and darker than his visions, but it still feels the same. The moon is high and full, glowing silver across the rocky cliffs and stones. Kylo moves the cloth from his head before standing and walks beyond the fire.

He expects to find Rey asleep or maybe meditating, but then there are footsteps on the stone coming hard and fast. Her hair is tight behind her ears and there is a saber on her belt. She looks so incredibly like she did the last time he saw her that he flinches, hand reaching for the saber that is not there.

Her eyes catch the hand movement, and Rey halts her approach. She stands tall and firm. “I thought we agreed we weren’t going to kill each other.”

“I…”

“You can trust me.” She doesn’t hesitate anymore. Rey is in front of him, face painted with the soft glow of moonlight. “I won’t hurt you.”

“I won’t hurt you either.”

“I know.” Her eyes flicker up and down. “I trust you too.”

That hits him fully, completely. He doesn’t think she should trust him, but he knows why she does. She can see him. Through their bond, through their deep-seeded loneliness, Rey can see him at his most raw. And he could see her too.

“What happened, Ben? Why did you come here?”

Kylo does not want to think about it again, how he had been betrayed and had killed two of his men. He thinks back to Tatooine and fucking Carise Sindian.

_Do you understand what it’s like to lose?_

He has lost everything. He has sacrificed and bled so much for the First Order, has killed and wanted to die because of them and their cause. And now he was allowing himself to feel that pain, that emotion, that incredible loss of Katara and Mullen and Elan. Of Han. Of _Ben_.

Rey grabs his hand. _She must sense me_. The girl says nothing but she’s looking at him, patient and concerned, and then she is closing her eyes. She grabs his other hand and they curve together. Kylo is confused until he feels it. His thoughts are wiped, blank, and all he knows is the island around them. The rage of the ocean. The soft fall of leaves. The birds flying and diving and killing fish. The buds of a flower opening even in the moonlight. He feels it and it is all consuming. He feels it and the hum in his chest is ripping at his heart.

_The Force._

He has forgotten this side of it. He has forgotten what this feeling is, and then he realizes that this is not a side at all, that this is _everything._

His hands are holding her so, so tightly, and soon he opens his eyes to see Rey smiling at him. His chest catches from the power. “I think for the same reason you did.”

.

.

She brings him back to the village, dropping his hands though hers are still tingling from the contact. Kylo or Ben still hasn’t told her what happened, and she is worried but content that he is here and alive.

The emotions are confusing, to say the least. She had once denied him the location of this planet, had run and tried to protect Ahch-To from him, and even now she feels tense, uncertain. Rey doesn’t know this man—not in the way that you’re supposed to know a person. Collectively, she maybe had hours of time with him, but it doesn’t feel that way.

“You can stay here.” Rey gestures to the abandoned stone house next to the one she decided to take over. The hive-like structure has no door, and Rey is stunned to see clothing and a bedroll already placed in the center of the floor.

Kylo walks in first and picks up the grey tunic. “Was someone else here?”

“No. The Caretakers gave me one as well.” She clears her throat seeing his vacant expression. “They’re the ones that bandaged you.”

“I see.” Kylo waves out the tunic before placing it over his head. Rey watches his muscles flex at the effort, attempting to ignore the burn in her throat. “Rey, what is this place?”

She doesn’t know where to begin. He must be able to feel it too. This place is something special. It is the Force made absolute. It is ancient and beautiful but springing with new life. It is the place he had tried to find for so long, the place he had tried to torture out of her. She grimaces at the memory. “You don’t know?”

“It’s where Skywalker was hiding.” He says easily, eyes never dropping from hers. Kylo is drained. His hair is matted with his own blood, but this door had opened and Rey does not want to drop it.

“Were you going to kill him? If you found him here?”

He swallows. She can still see the height of his chest rise with the low v of the tunic. “I was.”

 _He’s still so angry_. She isn’t sure if that would ever change or if she would have thought any differently. To Kylo, his uncle was trying to kill him, presumed that the darkness in him outweighed the light so much that there could be no redemption. What if someone had done that to her? Would she have responded any differently? “Why didn’t he help you?”

“Maybe he knew he couldn’t.”

“You don’t actually believe that.”

He rolls out the bedroll and lays down, cursing when his back touches the ground. “I don’t believe in it, Rey. I…can’t pretend that I ever did. I was never meant for the Light.”

She feels the beat of her own heart and remembers the darkness. _Me either._ Rey leans on the open doorway of the cottage. The sleep is coming back to Kylo’s eyes and she can feel her own yawn coming through. “I want to show you something tomorrow. You don’t have any other plans, do you?”

He sniffs at her joke but a smile slowly forms. “I think I can free up some time.”

.

.

When Kylo wakes, he doesn’t remember where he is. He panics, worry-stricken, only to see stone and sunlight. The memory comes back fully, slowly, and he stretches his arms. His shoulder feels better. He feels the heat of sun on his skin and it stirs something in him. Kylo moves outside, ignoring the Caretakers as Rey had called them, and goes to where the rock cliffs meet the air. The wind flows around him as he falls into Lotus, legs crossed, hands raised upwards and grasping at the pure energy around them. He is not prone to meditate, not at all but…

_This place…_

The suns are rising, painting the blue sky orange and purple and pink. He doesn’t remember the last time he woke on a planet and not a ship or shuttle or Starkiller.

“Jakku only has one sun.”

He doesn’t turn to the voice behind him but shifts to his left as Rey sits next to him, copying his form. “Two moons though. They weren’t as bright as the moon here. It’s like there’s so much light for it to catch here…it just glows.” She inhales before turning to him. She looks tanner in the bright light of day. Her face is already dirty, her hair lined with sweat.

He knows Jakku well but doesn’t say anything about that. “What did you want to show me?”

She leads him far from the cliff and village until they are standing on the edge of ruins. He looks at her and at the falling stones and wants to bend down or run closer. He’s breathless in front of it, his body light and electrified. The intensity only heightens when Rey grabs his hand. Her eyes are wide, face flushed. “Luke told me that this is the site of the First Jedi Temple.”

He moves his fingers up and down her knuckles. “It feels different.”

“I think it is. Come.” Rey is fearless, practically sprinting through the debris until they are inside. The light is refracted through the dome roofs. She stops in the center, and Kylo immediately catches the symbol on the floor, the man a combination of white and black stones, holding his saber and dividing the image in two. “Is it crazy that I think we were both meant to be here?”

No. It’s absolutely not. He is thinking the same exact thing and he shakes his head. His palm feels sweaty in Rey’s hand but he dares not drop it.

“We…the Force wants us here. I think that’s why we are bound, Ben. I think we’ve been bound ever since you’ve saved me when I was thirteen. Not because of Snoke or anything dark. Just because of…us.”

His head spins. He’s known that in a way though he never truly thought the universe could work so seamlessly. That the girl who he brought to Jakku was the woman he had found on Takodana. That the innocent girl brought to the temple the day before would mean _anything_ to him besides a child that needed to forget. Had he forgotten? He looks at Rey but the memories of her are faded, that instance blocked out by the sheer animalism of his actions before her. He had been so distracted with the guilt of “killing” Luke Skywalker, of actually killing his fellow students. How was he going to focus on the one he had _saved_? “You don’t know that.”

“There’s…something about it in the texts. Have you read them? There’s historical instances of this happening between a Padawan and master.”

“I’m not…”

“Or in near death experiences involving the Force.” Her eyes are locked on him. She believes this. “It’s…why this hasn’t just vanished after Snoke died and why I felt this on Takodana. You knew it then too, didn’t you?”

“It’s gotten stronger.”

“ _I’ve_ gotten stronger. Ben…” She’s frustrated, shaking her head. “I have been terrified of this power. I…I hated it because of that night and I didn’t even know why. I barely even knew I had it after you.”

“What made you remember now?”

She moves her hands all around. “This place. The Force. I’ve been seeing that night in different ways. The rain. The fire. I saw you and your knights but you weren’t actually the knights then, were you?”

He shakes his head.

“You can feel this place. It’s…sacred. It helped me see what that was, make me powerful enough to bring back those memories.”

“Is that why you’ve brought me here?” He won’t say he’s sorry; he isn’t. He knew what he did had saved her life, and he made sure that scrapper scum let her work freely, in peace. It was the least she deserved after what she had witnessed.

Rey shakes her head. “No.” She bites the edge of her lip, which only draws his attention to how soft they were and how incredibly close she is. He can practically hear her heartbeat against his own when she says, “I want you to teach me the Dark Side.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now I am knee -deep in the Reylo part of this fic and I am excited though incredibly anxious. Thank you for reading :)


	11. Immix

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for such a short one but the ending felt right here. Hope you agree...

“No.”

She didn’t expect that but the answer is clear and so blunt that there was no possible way that she had misheard him. Hadn’t Kylo Ren desperately try to bring her to the Dark? Isn’t this the man that asked if she would rule the galaxy beside him?

Her ears are red and burning at the memory. This Kylo Ren looks just as stubborn and determined. He is dangerous across from her, but Rey only wants to be closer. She swallows before speaking. “I don’t think you know what I mean.”

“You’re playing with fire.” He walks around the mosaic, eyes flickering aggressively between the floor and her. “How do you think the Dark will help you?”

“Because it’s the same, isn’t it?” She wants to yell at him out of pure frustration. His face is still stolid, unyielding but she needs him to believe her. “Ben, you were right. There are no more Jedi or Sith. There’s just the Force. I want to understand all of it.”

His fists clench across from her and his head has fallen. “No, Rey.”

“But…”

“No.”

Her anger spikes, and she walks across the symbol and grabs his forearm. “Why not?”

“You don't know what you're asking for.” He doesn’t move.

“No, I absolutely do. You must feel it. Ben…” She inhales deeply before touching his face. The tips of her fingers flex over the light bristle. He hasn’t shaved, and she curves her touch down, brushing until her ring finger traces the edge of his mouth. His breath hits her, hot, anxious. He leans against her full on, and his dark eyes are locked on her touch.

His Adam's apple bobs. “Aren’t you afraid?”

She looks up, surprised by the question, and shakes her head wildly. She’s not afraid. Not of the Dark. Not of him. Her hands fall to his collarbone and she can feel the _pump, thump_ of his heart bang from under her. “No.”

“You told me you heard voices, Rey. They are powerful.” He brushes a flyaway hair away from her face and slowly pulls away. “Enticing.”

“This is different. It’s not…” Her hand stays steady on his heart. For some reason she is soothed by the tempo, the accelerated rhythm. “I don’t think that was someone else. It’s not outside temptation.” Her lips stick at the word. “It’s mine.”

His voice lowers. “Yours?”

“I don’t want to fight that part of me. I don’t think we’re supposed to. I know I have darkness in me just like I know you have light.”

He turns from her but she touches his face again, pulls him back so that she can look him in the eye. He’s terrified. Absolutely terrified. Kylo is breathless, frozen, and he takes his hand and covers her own. “How do you want to start?”

.

. 

They set terms. One hour a day. That’s all Kylo feels comfortable sharing, and even after that, Rey needs to mediate for at least two hours afterwards. He never thought the Dark was something that needed to be taught. It is all emotion and power. It is raw and visceral and just…easy that he doesn’t know why she wants this or needs this at all. And he doesn’t want it to change her.

“We’ll start tomorrow. You should…explore the island.” She’s cross-legged on the temple floor, a book curled in her lap. He wants to sit down next to her, ask what she’s reading, but she seems too focused and he decides to leave the temple on his own.

There are these little birds everywhere cooing, and Kylo scowls before finding his way back to the Lanai Village. His face is red from the heat of the suns, and the grey shirt is starting to stick to his sweating skin. He hides from the sun, retreating back to the stone house Rey had originally brought him to. There’s another tunic there and pants, and Kylo turns back to the Caretakers but sees they are still busy cleaning the village.

This place is nothing like he had ever been before, but it is entirely too familiar to him. He remembers when he had taken Rey on Takodana. The bond must have been there even then. He knew it though he couldn’t put a name to it. He remembers seeing her in the woods and just…wanting her. He had wanted her more than some stupid droid or map or Skywalker. And he saw the same things in her mind that had haunted him for ages. Fear. Loneliness. The Ocean. The Islands.

_It’s this place._

He’s seen it in his mind before and being here…

He hates what Rey is asking of him but she is determined and so incredibly connected with the Force that a part of him believes that this will help whatever she wants to accomplish. Though he has no idea what that is.

Kylo’s restless. He leaves the house and the village and decides to walk down the cliffs. He wants to be closer to the water, and soon he is at the edge, boots off, and walking into the water’s depths. The ebb and flow of the tide syncs with his breathing. The grit of the sand shifts and intertwines between his toes and he is brought to a desert. Of using the Force to make the young girl sleep. Carrying her out of the ship and handing that scum Plutt a bag of credits to make sure she’s taken care of, that she’s _free_. He thinks of Darth Vader’s—Anakin’s—lightsaber snapping between them, a perfect split in two.

_We’re connected._

The Force had brought them together somehow, for some reason, and he lets himself fall into wondering why, if there was any weight to what Rey was trying to tell him. She is his counterpart. It’s obvious to him. Though he hated to think of it, Snoke had said a Light would rise to meet him as his power grew. The universe would counter him, try to even the shift to the Dark.

_Then why does she want to learn…_

He slowly moves down, hand digging into the sand, as he sits at the waterline. The waves pour over his legs fully, but Kylo does not move. It is a calming sensation, a memorizing surge of energy enveloping him. He feels so connected to this place and everything about it. All of it. There’s a weight shifting from his chest and he feels his body open, shoulders releasing the bundle of nerves and anger and hurt he has held captive for so long.

He thinks of Chandrila, of Hanna City, and their apartment in the sky. Of the times his dad would be between jobs and his mom was home from the senate. He remembers his parents holding hands, smiling at each other, and that love would positively radiate. They gave it to him easily, so willingly just poured and poured and poured this love to him, and he’s not sure how he had forgotten that feeling. That feeling of completeness, of _belonging_.

He can push away the voices that were there, Snoke baiting him, telling him they thought nothing of him, that they were afraid of his potential, his destiny and continuing legacy. It had confused him before he knew about Vader, but he does remember the hushed whispers and quiet fights.

His mother wanted him to go. He needed help. She can feel something surrounding her son and she wants to make sure it’s gone, exterminated before it gets worse.

And his father would say no. He’s _their_ son. He’s not a Jedi. Let Ben decide what to do. This is Ben’s life. His choice.

And Ben remembers not wanting to go. He’s met Uncle Luke before, but he would be leaving his parents and when they are together, the voices stop. There is no darkness but just love and peace. He needs that. He does not know how desperately he had needed that.

He digs his fingers into the sand around him. He remembers crying to his mother. Begging with his father. He’ll be good. He hasn’t done _anything_ and he doesn’t understand why they are pushing him away.

And they say they are not but they are. They drag him, drop him off, and he does not see them again for years. The love they had given him is fading away, replaced by darkness and bitter memory. As a Jedi he is told attachment is dangerous. It is something that can corrupt you, and Ben does not want that to happen so, so badly. So he detaches. He tries to forget that love and after a while, he does.

He is so lonely. And then everything comes back in unleashed fury. Snoke. The Knights of Ren. The First Order. Him trying and trying but never being fucking good enough at _any_ of it. The Light or the Dark. He has tried, pulled himself in both directions so extremely that he thought he would break, that he would be shattered and hollow and broken.

And his father is there on the walkway, and he is open and promising him that love again. A home. Belonging. He is promising safety and warmth, and Kylo had that once. He had that once from him before and it was ripped completely out. Until he was taken, corrupted, warped into the person who he is now. He just wanted it to _end_. But he was a failure to the Light. He has killed too many people to ever be good so he can only be the opposite and forget the reminder. Kill the person who wanted to save him.

The tide is climbing around him, drowning his waist, and Kylo feels wetness crawl down his own cheeks as he watches the two suns dance around each other. “I’m sorry.” He says low but deep. “Dad, I’m sorry.” It doesn’t feel like enough. Words do not replace the things he has done, and he’s not sure what will.

He empties his thoughts and turns back to the island. He feels every bit of it, but the thing that stands out the most is her. She always has, and Kylo is pulled to that energy, the feel of light she holds so easily and naturally within her. It’s beautiful.

He sits for a few more minutes before there are footsteps behind him and a sharp intake of breath. The steps increase in pace and sound, and he knows that she is running. “Are you okay?”

She kneels at his side, the water lapping around them both. Her fingers are brushing back the tear stains on his cheeks, tracing them up his cheekbones before they curl in his hair. He looks at her, brown-green eyes wide and full, hair a mess around her face. And she is so incredibly beautiful, and he is raw and brimming with feeling. Rey stares at him ardently, her hands rubbing the back of his neck.  “Ben, it’s okay.”

He feels his chest rise and fall. It takes too much effort, and she does not seem to be breathing any easier. She’s lowering closer to him, moving so she is half-straddling his waist, so that they are both wet through with tide and there is no air between their contact. “Don’t be afraid.” Her eyes are heady, and there is so much utter compassion in her presence that he feels like he is _whole_. “I feel it too.”

His eyes flicker from hers to her lips. Her mouth is slightly open and too, too pink. He runs a finger down her jawline ending on her bottom lip. Rey grabs his hand away, linking it with her own, and nods.

It’s the only sign he needs to kiss her.

 


	12. Succor

 They are pulled together so easily, so seamlessly, that Rey forgets why they haven’t done this since they’ve met. He is magnetic and visceral under her, and she inches up his thigh, dragging his face to hers so that they can be closer. She needs to be closer.

This is not like the bond. This is different. Breathless. Torrid. This is all emotion and zero thought, and the comparison of meditation flashes through her head until Kylo licks her bottom lip. Rey shivers, pulse racing. She opens herself willingly, and his hands curve to the back of her hips. His touch sparks electric, tingles up and through her, completely, fully. She sighs as he pushes deeper, lips sore and bursting, before he’s breaking and cradling her cheeks. “I…I don’t know what I’m doing.”

Rey nods because she’s pretty sure she doesn’t either. She can’t possibly speak right now. There is nothing intelligible that could be uttered, and she is just focused on him. His hair is curled, wet with specks of sand and sticking to his pale face. She brushes, pushes a black strand away so she can see his eyes. They are full and deep and so focused on her, begging for her to stay, to _want_ this. The heat in her flickers something powerful. _I do want this._  She leans, pulls on the top of his lip with her own but he doesn’t move, doesn’t inch closer.

Kylo pushes back her shoulders before standing. “This is not how I…”

She raises her eyebrows. “How you?”

“Never mind.” He offers a hand to help her stand. “Did you…finish your book?”

“My book?” She doesn’t want to talk about that. She really just wants to kiss him again, but Kylo is standing too far, crossing his arms. Rey can’t remember what her book was about or that she was even reading a book. Her lips are still tingling, and she touches them before taking a step closer. “Don’t you want to…”

“Can I read them?

“What? Um, yes.” She’s suddenly embarrassed. Rey brushes the wet sand from her arm. “Though you may have read them before. They seem like foundational material. Ben, shouldn’t we…” Rey stutters. He seems closed off, expressionless. The normal hum of their bond is silent, and she decides not to push it any further. “I…need to freshen up.”

His demeanor lifts. “There’s a refresher here?”

She snorts, but Kylo does not look amused. “There’s a lake which is clean enough and not filled with salt. It’s usually…”

“No. Don’t do that.” He sounds almost offended. “You can use my ship.”

Of course she’s thought about using her own when she had first arrived, but the shower is cramped and the water pressure meek. She hadn’t minded the lake at all, but Kylo is holding out his hand. She looks at it, hesitant, and he smiles, “I’ll take you to it.”

Their palms touch and the heat of their prior connection is there and burdensome again. The bond is almost intrusive, invading her even as she tries to distract herself with the other parts of Ahch-To. But he is there. He’s _always_ been there. She thinks of Takodana, before the First Order arrived and she was stumbling through Maz’s basement, drawn towards that chest. And then the absolute _rush_ of visions all bombarding her. All ending with Kylo Ren.

Rey wonders if she should tell him that. He’s admitted he dreams about her, that he has the same visions she does, but now that he’s here, that she realizes the whole extent of her… feelings towards him, the words won’t come out. She’s undoubtedly and incredibly attracted to him. And she knows she has been since Takodana. She remembers the utter shock of seeing him behind that mask and the creeping shame that followed soon after.  It had wavered. She had hated him intensely, but now she is just confused again. Of her own feelings, of _his_.

 _He kissed me._ She looks at their hands as he leads her away from the beach, up the cliffs and towards the landed Upsilon. Rey had never…she hadn’t kissed anyone before, and she isn’t sure what quite to do now that he has done it and seems so distant. She’s not quite sure what to do at all with Kylo Ren. He doesn’t look at her all the way back to his ship, but his fingers dance, rub across her knuckles and she’s finding it hard to breathe.

She freezes as she sees the ship, the reaction to the First Order filling her with fear and she drops Kylo’s hand. He tenses but doesn’t reach for her again. His hand presses the code on the side and the ramp lowers.

Rey is immediately hit with the smell of copper, of blood, and she sees the dried marks in the pilot’s chair and on the floor of the small bridge. The ship is larger than her own though darker. She sees ripped packs of bacta and a bloodied torn black shirt on the metal grated floor. Rey touches the refined leather of the pilot’s chair and glances at the control console. There are so many buttons and switches embedded in the metal, and she’s fascinated, impressed, that he managed to get here on his own. _And bleeding out._  “Ben, what happened?”

“You insist on calling me Ben?”

“Would you rather me not?”

He doesn’t respond. Kylo looks at the mess surrounding him, his eyes trailing on the drips of red, clear blood. “I was overthrown.”

His words sink in and she feels deflated and then panicked. _You knew he didn’t just leave. You know he’s not...he’s not…_ “By who?”

Kylo rubs at his right shoulder. His tone is edgy, “Hux. My knights. The troopers.”

“They arranged a coup?”

“They arranged an assassination.” He rolls his back, eyes still on the blood and he falls silent again. Rey is drawn to him, and she inches closer, wanting to wind her fingers in between his even with all this clouded energy. But she doesn’t. She watches as the tall man paces around the ship. “The refresher’s down the hall there. First door on the left. Do you have clothes?”

She realizes she doesn’t and shrugs. “I’ll just wear these.”

“You…” He shakes his head. “I’ll go and get you some.”

“Ben, you don’t…”

He’s not listening.  Kylo is turning from her and soon is off his own ship. Suddenly, she finds herself alone on a First Order ship. Rey doesn’t know what exactly to do with herself and the weird mix of emotions that are suddenly controlling her.

They kissed. 

She really can’t get over that one. He had been here for little less than a day and she had already kissed this man. She already _wanted_ to again but she can’t pin rational thought to it. She…shouldn’t feel so comfortable around him, and then with the blood and mess on the floor, Rey knows that comfort is the wrong word. She is not comfortable around Kylo Ren. He is the definition of discomfort, and her whole body tenses and flexes at the thought of him.

_Stop it._

She lets loose the buns from her hair and heads to the washroom. There’s guilt pouring through her and she feels dirty, traitorous. That just because she saw that beam of light in him on the beach does not wipe out what he did to the Resistance, what he could _still_ do. _I don’t know him._ Her hands fumble with the faucet and soon she is naked and letting the flume of hot water hit her skin. She sighs at the strong pressure and focuses. _I don’t know him at all. Not like that. Never like that._

Rey wipes her mind for the rest of the shower and stays locked under the stream until she finally feels clean. It takes too long. The mirrors are incredibly steamed, and she wonders how many more of these she could have before burning through Kylo’s water tank.

It is then she thinks about how long he plans to stay here with her. A day? A week? She wipes her cold hand over the mirror to see her own reflection. She’s tanner now and more freckles are dotting the bridge of her nose from the sun. Her face is flushed with the heat of the water and she moves through the drawers to find a clean towel.

She expects Kylo to be waiting for her, but he isn’t. There are clothes stacked in a neat pile on a bench towards the bridge but she is completely alone.

.

.

It has been a full day since she has seen Kylo Ren, and Rey is getting annoyed. She had thought he had stayed in his hut all day, tired and healing, but then she hears and not sees the whir of a lightsaber at night and she is livid.

She shakes from her bedroll, reflex having her attach her own saber to her belt. The stars and moon are out in full swing, and while she typically opts to train secluded in a forest, Kylo is out in the open. His saber is not lit, and although it is dark, she swears it looks different in his hand. He’s sweating and breathing heavily, and Rey remembers his power, the overwhelming fear she had on Starkiller. Though the intensity is still there, the emotion underpinning it is completely different. She is all warmth and heat on the island where Starkiller was an empty chill. She can hear the waves and wind and Kylo’s quickened breath so easily.

“Did I wake you?”

His concern is confusing, and Rey knows it’s not the first time he’s displaying this kind of attachment. Their interactions alone are completely counter to what she knows he must have acted with the First Order, with Luke, with his parents. “You did.” Her arms cross over her chest, cold from the wind. “I don’t have a chrono here. I don’t know…”

“You should still go back to sleep.”

She edges closer. “You’re not sleeping. You should sleep. I wasn’t the one that had a giant gash in my shoulder.” Her smile lifts at his confusion. “You think the Caretakers could carry you down here from your ship?”

“And you could?”

“The Force could.” She moves closer until she is next to the extinguished fire pit of the village and then sits, cross-legged, looking up at him expectantly, ignoring the memory of him bleeding, of her cutting his face open, of them both kissing and it feeling so incredibly _good_. She pushes that, moves it away until Kylo is following her down, simple saber on his belt. “I’m ready to learn if you are.”

His hands roll up and down his knees. “I don’t think I need to learn more about the Dark.”

“Maybe.” She tries to leave herself open, the bond flowing and caressing between them. It is infuriating, amazing, how connected they could feel while she spent the whole day feeling completely blocked. Now she is full and aching. She itches to get closer, but Rey settles her body down, swallowing. “Should I explain what I feel?”

He shakes his head. “I know what you feel. When I was younger…even your age, I remember how intimate it could be. It surrounds you, and right now you are fighting it. I thought I would be weak to go to it, Rey. I thought I would be a failure to everyone and to myself.”

“But you weren’t.”

“Wasn’t I?” His gloveless hands are moving across the dirt, tracing circles and infinity loops. “I was a very good Jedi.”

She thinks of that night with his blue saber, his hair pulled back with one thin braid on his right side, splattered with rain. Kylo reaches, grabs her hand, and shakes his head. “No…before that. I was prodigious like you.”

Her face flushes and she’s not sure if it’s the compliment or the contact. “I wouldn’t say I’m…”

“You wouldn’t? You _are_. You have no idea how strong with the Force you actually are. I was trained for over a decade and you almost killed me. You resisted me.”

 _You know why_. She doesn’t say it. “Maybe you’re just not that good.”

Kylo sputters and shifts in his seat. “Close your eyes.”

She doesn’t like the sternness of his command but she does it and the once silver lighted world is now black. His hands are the only sensation she can feel completely, and they wrap, edge up her palms until only the pads of their fingers are touching.

His voice is hard and deep around her. “What do you see?”

“Nothing.”

“What do you feel?”

 _You_. Rey bites her lip and focuses out. “I feel the island.”

“And what about it do you feel?”

“Everything. The Force.”

“What’s drawing you though?”

Her hands skim against his and she catches herself again, ignores the heat building in her stomach and the sensation of his breath on her neck. And then there is something equally powerful, alluring, grasping. “The cave.”

She hears him sharply inhale, and his fingers dip until they are fully gripping her. “Tell me about the cave.”

“I know I’m not supposed to go there…I know I shouldn’t.”

“But you want to.”

“No, I did.” She swallows. Her throat is dry and it is getting harder and harder to concentrate. “I went there.”

“You…” There’s a long pause and Rey desperately wants to open her eyes. She doesn’t though. She concentrates on the sound of his chest rising and falling, her own thoughts becoming muddled and hazardous. “You went?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“It promised it would help me. It…” Her eyes are wet. “My family. I wouldn’t have to be alone if I went.” They are dripping now, tears falling, and Rey feels her mind shattering, feels the darkness try to coil and quell that fear, tell her she’ll be fine, she’ll never have to be lonely again if she lets it in. “I wanted it.”

“So you wouldn’t be lonely?”

“Yes.” Her eyes snap open and Kylo is gazing at her completely, eyes big, mouth agape to steady his own breathing. “Isn’t that what you wanted?”

His Adam’s apple bobs but he ignores the question. “Why did you leave?”

She challenges him, moves so their knees are touching. He does not inch away this time. “Don’t you mean how?”

“Yes.” There’s a weakness in his voice.

“I only saw me.” She wants him to understand her so desperately. “I expected to see my parents in that cave and it could only deliver myself. I…you were right. I know they are gone and the dead, but the darkness cannot bring them back. The Light can’t either.”

Kylo shakes his head. “So then you are still alone. Even with the Light.”

“I don’t feel alone.” She murmurs but Kylo hears her completely, and she repeats it again, tone even and louder. “I don’t feel alone at all.”

“Rey…”

“Close your eyes.” She mimics his hard tone, ebbs her fingers back so only the tips are touching again. “Close your eyes.”

His mouth is a firm line, but Kylo obliges and closes his eyes, and he is absolutely beautiful in the moonlight though Rey does her best to bury that thought as soon as it comes. “What do you see?”

“A pool,” He says immediately. His fingers are already slipping, curling over her own and his head bends. “It’s dark.”

“And what else?”

“…there’s nothing else.”

Her nails dig into his knuckles, persistent. “What else?”

Kylo sneers though keeps his eyes close still. The beads of sweat slip from his brow with each inhale. “The island is there. The pool is a part of it but there’s more.”

“Are you drawn to only the pool?”

His shoulders curl in, and Kylo stops himself from speaking immediately. Rey looks for the words to encourage him again, but his voice beats her. “No.”

“What else?”

“You.” He doesn’t open his eyes though Rey wants to look at them, see if he’s being sarcastic or childish though she knows he isn’t. “I’m drawn to your light.”

She can’t say the same. She’s not…she’s not drawn to Kylo because of the darkness in him—no, it is her own darkness that haunts her, whispers in her head. Rey tries to steady her voice, licking her lips. “What does that feel like?”

“Like Chandrila. Does that make sense?”

“You’re the one who’s feeling it, Ben. If it makes sense to you, it…”

“It doesn’t.” His eyes snap open and he drops his hands. His body folds in on itself, but he doesn’t move away or try to stand. “I don’t want to remember Chandrila. I don’t…I don’t…” He stands then, head shaking, and then the lightsaber is ignited— raw and effervescent—and Kylo rips through the cooking ware on the firepit until it hisses and melts. Rey inches back, frightened, memorized by the power and rage and the fact that his saber is _green_.

“Ben!” She finally stands and her voice paralyzes him. The saber is still engaged, and she does not understand the color though she can’t ask. Adrenaline reflexively pumps through her, but she keeps her body easy, not defensive, and touches his right hand, lowering the lightsaber. Kylo shuts it off immediately at the contact. “Ben, I’m afraid too.”

“Are you? It…it’s so easy for you. I feel it. You accept it so easily. You haven’t even been trained in the Jedi Code and you can still combat the dark so much better than me. I sense it in you.” The saber drops to the ground and both his hands are around her wrists. “You cannot bring me to the Light.”

She shakes her hands loose and the bond is there, fluid and intimate and pushing on her chest. And yes, she is so entirely drawn to him, but it has nothing to do with the dark. Her hands are cold and he fidgets as she moves against his neck, touching his cheek. The contact of his lips on hers flashes through her intensely, and she wants to find that emotion again. “I don’t want to.”

There’s confusion in his eyes and then something so incredibly weak. She feels the pulse of sadness pour from him to her, of regret and fear and then small sparks of hope. He takes the hand on his cheek and brings it to his mouth, kissing her inner palm so delicately, an easy warmth radiating from his lips. “I’m not sure I can do this.”

“I’m not sure either.” She feels his breath on her hand and it is aching. “But maybe that’s okay.”


	13. Fracture

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm going on vacation soon and won't have much time to write (so hard to hide my reylo writer's heart from people). Hopefully this chapter will satiate the need for now :)

They sleep in separate houses and Kylo is desperate for her to be right there, her body and mind and soul enveloping him with some sort of incredible, foreign intimacy. Rey…does something to him. She always has. Saving her from Gaun. Carrying her on Takodana. Feeling her through this Force bond and the clarity and strength she brought with her.

It was hard leaving her that night, and even now that they are literal feet away, he feels like she may as well be miles. He doesn’t understand this tug and pull towards her, and he is restless, rolling and sweating on the bedroll until the suns break. He changes his shirt before moving out of the small house, saber on his hip. The Caretakers are livid, staring at the cut open pot and fuming. They stop and stare at him as he exits the hut.

“I can get you a new one.”

They wave him off, grunting, and attempt to put the pieces back together.

Rey is nowhere to be found, and he finds himself looking for her despite his need to isolate himself the day before. Her hut is empty, her bedroll neatly wrapped in a tight bundle while he left his sprawled and haphazard. The tiny circular room where she slept is incredibly orderly, and he has flashes, visions of the young teenager he had left on Jakku. And then of her before. Of her alone on that desert planet and a slave. The Republic couldn’t have saved her. And he was kidding himself if he thought the First Order could either.

The First Order is not about humanity. It is a fury of angry people, of those crushed and abandoned after the Galactic Empire fell. It is a faction that wishes to grab back power simply because they had lost it and nothing more. Kylo thinks of Hux and his skin crawls. He thinks of Gaun, crying, yelling over Katara. He thinks of himself and how he had handed everything over so easily, and he exhales, furious. How did he intend to bring order with those people at his side? How could he establish some sort of balance when everyone around him was incredibly broken?

Not that Rey is whole. Rey is…fragile in her own way. She is strong, incredibly powerful, but the vulnerability in her is there and it is open to him. He has been trained to recognize that emotion, to pick clean a mind and expose its weakness, and he can do that with Rey. He has _done_ that with Rey, and the shame and guilt of his actions overpower him.

There’s a whir of red in the corner of his eyes, and his fingers dip to his hip, hand gripping the hilt of Luke’s saber. She has managed to find a clearing in the tropic wood, and Kylo watches her form. She’s defensive, which has always been true of a warrior of light, but there’s an aggression about her stance, a fury and rawness, and he remembers how so incredibly untrained she is.

Her back is facing him, and he watches her rush of breathing, the shining layer of sweat slick on her arms. “You don’t seem like the observer type.”

Kylo stiffens but doesn’t let her words flummox him. He should have known that she could sense him. He is practically magnetized towards her. “I’m not.”

Rey turns to face him, bending her knees before wiping her forehead with her arm. The light of the suns moves through the surrounding trees and catches her easily. Her lightsaber is still engaged, glowing bright red. “I could use a partner.”

“That saber.”

“Yours is green.” She moves her head towards his hip. “Do you…want to switch?”

“No.”

“Good.” Rey smiles. “Me either.” She moves her feet, squaring her body so that she has proper, steady form. Rey holds the red saber with two hands, waiting, ready. He hesitates before drawing his own lightsaber up, flipping the switch easily so that it is bright green. He hasn’t casually sparred someone in years, and he thinks back to his days as a Padawan, rules trickling back.

“No contact.”

Rey jerks from her sturdy posture. “I would hope not.”

“Or Force manipulation.” He sees her surprise. “This is about technique.”

“I don’t have much technique.”

He can’t help the smile. “Then this should be easy for me.”

Her face twists and soon she is charging, saber raised and angled. Kylo blocks it easily, the connection causing a brief pressure between them before he snaps the saber back. On Starkiller, she ran from him, but here she circles, ready, watching. There is a slight tinge in his shoulder from the pain, but Kylo ignores it, eyes solely focused on her.

She’s quick, moving in and out, recognizing instantly the difference between their heights and how she must work with it. She dips and rolls and zaps into his range, striking quickly before moving away. Her attacks are muddled, weak, and Kylo easily knocks them away without aggressing.

Rey lowers her lightsaber. “Are we doing this or what?”

“We are.” He rolls the saber in his hands and with one fluid motion, starts his attack. She is so incredibly quick and agile, that his swings feel messy, clumsy. He tries to match her grace but he is practically stomping on the dirt. He misses with too much power that he feels like he has a complete lack of alacrity. But Rey is all determination. She is pouring herself into each defensive move until she huffs with exhaustion. Kylo turns, sidesteps to dodge her own counter and the tip of his sword nearly catches her forearm. _Shit._ That was too close. He pulls back immediately, weapon lowering, and he expects Rey to follow.

She doesn’t.

She Force-grabs the saber from his hand, and he is half-impressed, half-angry that she cheated. Rey looks at the sabers in her hands and turns them both off. “I’m glad we finally settled that I would win.”

“Did we?” Kylo flicks his wrist and soon she is on her back, dragged by the Force to his feet. Rey is dusty, dirty, infuriated, and Kylo lowers his body down to offer her a hand. Rey moves to take it, but grabs his wrist, pulling his body down and shifting her own so that he is flat on his back. She moves immediately, legs over his torso, straddling him and holding his forearms at his sides. He feels hot from the contact, his breathing uneven with the weight of her on him.

Her hair is loose and surrounding her head. She blows a strand from her face, and Kylo takes the moment to buck, flip her over so that his knees are pinning her sides. His hands work up her forearms until he is holding her wrists above her head. He sinks his weight on her, expecting her to writhe, to struggle under him, but she isn’t. She is perfectly still.

He is leaning over her, their noses almost touching. His hair is damp and sticking to the back of his neck, and he watches her inhale, feeling her breasts shake from under him. As much as he tries to ignore that moment by the water, of her in his arms and them just coming together, it is all too clear to him now. Her eyes are wide and green-brown, her cheeks flushed from their physical exertion, and she looks absolutely _stunning_ beneath him. Kylo moves closer, angling his lips over her so that the thin skin brushes. “Rey…”

She lifts up, clashing their lips together and that rush of beautiful contact is back and hitting him full on. She is hungry, volatile under him, and the energy invading him is incredible and potent. This is the opposite of the dark pool. Her, under him, their lips twining and moving and nipping at each other is unadulterated power and he will give himself to it. He will give anything for this emotion, this utter feeling of wonder, and he pours himself into her.

“Let go of me.” Rey breaks and whispers. The words burn. He panics, thinking she wants to move, but she tenderly kisses his upper lip, her hot breath still on him. “Just my wrists.”

“Oh.” He feels warm, and he drags his hands away from her wrists and she is released and all over him. Her fingers wind and move through the sweat of his dark hair, but if she is bothered, Rey does not show it. She tugs him closer, and he deepens their contact, sliding his tongue on her lower lip before encircling her own.

Her hands move down his neck, and she pulls and tugs until his own mouth lowers into the dip of her jawline. He drags his teeth across the soft skin.

“Ow.”

He jerks back, flustered. “I don’t know…”

“No! No!” She’s all encouragement and wide-eyes. Rey is practically giggling under him and her hands curve over his chest. He feels a surge down low. “Not that. That was…that was _great_.” She’s completely flushed and he moves to do it again. Rey meets him halfway. “There are rocks under me.”

Kylo shifts his weight off her, moves so that he is sitting, and then pulls her up to meet him, her chest flushed against his own. He likes this. He likes this _a lot_. He can feel the heat of her skin through the thin fabric of their tunics. He can lose all thought into the soft, constant thrum of her heartbeat ricocheting off his own. “Better?”

Her arms wrap around his neck, and she moves her legs so that they are around his waist. She is shy suddenly, timid as she looks below and between them.

And he is too, though maybe he is better at hiding it, so caught up in all the warmth and acceptance she is offering that he hasn’t really considered what they are doing, why they are doing it, who they are and how this is so incredibly complicated.

But she’s pulling him back down, and his mouth meets her soft skin again. She’s murmuring something under her breath, and he can’t hear her, can’t understand a word she is saying, but it is lovely. He nips and licks before reaching up and kissing her, his grip feeling completely full with her hips.

“Ben…” She’s sighing, and the name paralyzes his body, brings back all those questions of who they are and what they are doing, and how this girl is just a girl and he does not deserve this. She is still moving towards him, but he is cold. He feels himself retreating from her, though he hasn’t moved a muscle. Rey inches her head away, eyes losing heat for softness. She touches his face. “Ben?” The breathiness of her tone is gone and replaced with concern. “What is it?”

“I’m not…” The words are hard. He doesn’t want to say anything, but the bond is thrumming and he knows that she feels it. That she already _knows_. “I’m not good at this.”

Her cheeks are bright red. “I think you’re _very…_ ”

“What if I hurt you?”

“Hurt me?”

“I’m good at that. And you might…”

She pushes against his chest, creating space. The concern is washed away with pure confusion. “I might what?”

_Leave._ He can’t say it. He’s looking at her, and she is ardent. She is stroking his cheek and then her lips are pressed against him. “I’m good at hurting people too. I’m good at…not needing people. Does that make sense? I thought I didn’t need anyone. And to be honest, I don’t think I do.”

“You don’t need anyone?”

“No.” She’s moving his hair back, and she speaks slowly, controlled. “But this isn’t about need. Not for me. I want to be here, Ben. I’m choosing this.”

“I’ve killed people, Rey. I want you to understand that. My hands are dirty.”

“My hands are dirty too.” She looks at her hands and he is brought back to when they were systems away but connected by the bond, of the fire he saw, and the feel of her skin on his for the first time. She cocks her head to the left, smiling. “I don’t feel so lost with you, Ben. That’s all I know. You said I feel like Chandrila, and I think that’s the same for me. Not Chandrila but…but… _something._ And no matter how much you think you are, you are not a monster.”

“I don’t want to be.” He wants to be everything for her. He wants to bask in this forgiving light and warmth of her arms, but the darkness is still breathing in his chest, still boiling below the surface. But maybe this time he can do it. Not for Vader or Snoke, but maybe he can for her. “I can try, Rey. I can try and be better for you.”

Rey grabs his hands and kisses his nose. Her eyes catch his own instantly. “I don’t want you to do it for me.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh god. Sap. Conflict will ensue but for now enjoy this pile of fluff I somehow found myself in.


	14. Dreams

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am back from vacation and ready to post! Hope ya'll didn't miss me too much!

Rey is out catching some sort of dinner but she has left Kylo books before she vanishes again. The thought of catching their own food confuses Ren, but Rey seems casual, almost resigned at the thought. He is left again wondering about her life on Jakku.

She thought he had seen these books before, but he hasn’t. His uncle’s Jedi school was not the type to hand out books or homework like the academy back in Hanna City. It was sweat and meditation. It was letting go of attachment, of emotion, of rage, and trying to live in unequivocal light.

These books preach something else and he is engrossed. The penmanship is graceful and ancient, and he treats the pages with utmost care, almost wishing he had his gloves back to protect them from the grime and sweat of his hands. He leans on the outside wall of his given stone hut, intermittently looking up to see the Caretakers dragging a new cooking pot to the firepit and sending him less than happy looks. He flashes his eyes back down on the pages and reads, looking specifically for the chapters concerning Force bonds but finding instead the consistent themes of balance, of light, and dark and everything. No side of the scale could be tipped, and he understands why Rey wanted to learn about the Dark Side. She is drawn to it because it is part of her. Just as he is to the Light.

   
There’s a dead bird in her hands when she comes back, and she looks proud and then embarrassed when she catches his face. “I forget sometimes you’re royalty.”

“I think I lost the title of Supreme…”

“Not in that way.” She throws the dead bird on the ground, and Kylo cannot believe he’s going to eat that.

“My mother does not consider herself a princess.” He stands to meet her, forgetting the book as soon as she is in eyesight again. “Her homeworld was destroyed when she was your age.” Kylo shakes his head. “Though I suppose technically, she was born on Polis Massa.”

Rey wipes the blood on her clothes. “Where’s that?”

“May as well be nowhere. It’s an asteroid field in the outer rim.”

“Humble beginnings.”

“But not a humble person.” He’s surprised by the ease of which he can speak about Organa. And the guilt and shame that typically overwhelms him is there, though controlled. “Does she know you’re here?”

Rey bites her lip. “I think so.”

“Will they…”

“I don’t know.” Her voice is sharp, brash, and Kylo knows she doesn’t want to speak anymore about that. The Caretakers are crowding around the bird and preparing the pit. Kylo looks away, and Rey sits cross-legged next to him. “The language is a little dull, but the topics are interesting. I expected it to be basically a compare and contrast layout of the Dark and Light but…”

“How do you know how to read?”

She flinches, wipes the hair from her face as her back stiffens. “I’m not completely uneducated. I never went to school but…”

“No.” He’s curious, fascinated. “That’s exactly it. You never went to an academy but you know how to read, how to write.”

Her smile is faint. “I can’t write as well as you.”

“That was more a…hobby. I don’t normally write like that.” He grabs her hand, hungry for the connection, and she’s stiff, looking at the blood on them. Kylo ignores it and loosens her joints. “You’ve been to my home. I’d like to hear about yours.”

“You’ve seen my parents. You know they were nothing.”

“They were your parents.”

“Like Han and Leia are yours?”

The acidity he expects in her voice isn’t there. And neither is the rage in his own body. The lack of emotion is surprising but he grabs on to it, embraces it. He swallows before speaking. “My mother used to read to me when she was home. It wasn’t often, and half the time she would fall asleep.”

Her head is on his shoulder, fitting perfectly. Her fingers play against his. “And Han?”

“Taught me how to fly.”

She’s looking at him, and her smile is radiating towards him, teeth shining, eyes open in pure glee. “I thought you left home when you were ten.”

“And I’ve been flying since I was seven.”

“Prodigious.” She’s leaning fully on him again, the weight of her body a welcome comfort. “Porg’s not entirely bad roasted. It’s meat which is more than what I typically had on Jakku.” She’s gripping him hard now. “I…I really don’t remember them much.”

“Your parents?”

He feels her nod next to him. “Yeah. I don’t think they were around often. I remember they would laugh a lot. And…and sometimes they would take me to the wheel races.” Her breath is deeper, ragged. “I don’t even remember their names.”

Ren doesn’t know what to do. The sadness permeates from her, and he does not know how to block it, to take it away from her. He drags her closer, kisses the top of her head, and it lessens a bit.

“It’s almost easier not to miss them though. To…not be angry with them for leaving me. They’re just like figures in space. Just shadows and shadows can't..." Rey swallows. "Do you think they knew?”

“That you were Force-sensitive? They may have.”

She holds him tighter. “Do you think that’s why?”

The vision flashes in his mind. It…it’s been there before. He has seen it and it gnaws, rips at him. She’s crying, reaching, begging to go with them. She is so, so young and scared, and they just leave. Just leave her in that desolate place helpless and alone. “There is no good reason why.” He pulls her hand against his chest, thinking it may calm her. It does.

“I used to steal things a lot.”

He can’t help the sniff. “You’d make the worst Jedi.”

She elbows him gently. “I stole books from the Niima Outpost. Mostly from off-worlders.”

“And then you simply taught yourself?”

“I’m not as prodigious as you.” Her mocking is lighthearted. “I would trade portions for lessons.”

“Portions?”

Her body stiffens. She shifts away and stands, arms crossing over her chest. “Don’t worry about that. I’m going to help them cook. Wash my hands.”

Rey’s practically sprinting away from him, and Kylo wants to call her back. He stays his voice and looks back at the book. He absentmindedly flips the pages to distract himself from Rey suddenly leaving and the weird, tangy smell of burning porg. He stops suddenly when he flips to a mostly blank page, only a few words and a rapidly sketched image. Kylo traces the black outline of the star easily and he knows he’s seen this before. The hum in his chest is back.

_The medallion…_

He pulls the book to his chest and bends his knees so he can lean the spine against them. _The Jedi Order._ He doesn’t understand. The book describes the star as a representation of the Jedi Order, and maybe it is though he cannot connect it to any particular training he had. _Unless Rey’s right._ He thinks of the old temple and the feeling of completeness surrounding him. He should show it to her.

“Ben!”

He is ripped away from the book, and she is standing there, giddy, gesturing to the rotisserie porg over the fire. The Caretakers are turning the spit all lackluster, and he stands to walk closer to her, leaving the ancient texts on the ground. He eyes the meat and the bloodied orange and white feathers on the ground.

“There’s fruit too.” Rey picks up a large, pink fruit and tosses it to him. “Peel the skin first. It’s not very tasty.”

He’s starving. Kylo peels the thing easily to reveal the white flesh. “How long have you been here for?”

“Not long.” She rips through her own fruit, the juices spilling from her mouth. Rey turns her head away, shy, before wiping her lips. Her face is flushed, grinning. “How long do you plan on staying?”

The question throws him. He can sense the timidity in her voice, the worry behind the question but he does not know what it means. He has his own trepidation, but he wouldn’t be surprised if that fear was completely different than Rey’s. “I haven’t really…I…” Where else could he even _go_?

“I haven’t thought about it either,” she offers. “We don’t have to think about that right now. Do you want to sit with me?” She doesn’t wait for him to respond and sits roughly on the ground a few feet away from the porg and fire. Kylo follows suit, suddenly self-conscious. He pulls at the skin of his fruit but doesn’t take another bite. Rey is tense across from him. “…This is weird, isn’t it?”

One of the Caretakers hand him a piece of meat in a clay bowl. Kylo does not move to take it. “Eating with you has not been the weirdest part.”

“The kissing was for me, maybe.” Her eyes flicker up to his face and then rapidly back down to the fruit in her hands. “Sorry, maybe we shouldn’t talk…”

“We can if you want to.” He swallows, patient and fascinated by the girl in front of him. The shyness seems to evaporate as she stiffens her shoulders, firming one hand on her knee before taking another bite of her fruit.

“Is that what people do? Do they talk about this?”

Kylo doesn’t know. He has limited experience in things like this. There were a few times when he was a Padawan that he had kissed another apprentice, but she hadn’t lasted long under Luke’s training, opting instead to go back to her homeworld before kissing could turn to anything more emotional or physical. That was nothing but temptation, another push and shove, in Kylo’s mind, to the Dark. And then there was Katara and Gaun. He remembers them clearly—how they were late for meditation constantly and then avoid each other whenever Master Luke was present. How, when they thought no one was looking, would hold hands and whisper in each other’s ears, laughing, smiling, _happy_. “Jedi don’t.”

“We’re not Jedi,” Rey replies easily. She exhales, fingers picking at the skin of the pink fruit. “I don’t really understand what’s going on, Ben. But it’s…right that you’re here with me. I like it.”

“Despite of what I’ve done?”

“Yes. I thought I would hate you more.” Her voice is firm and the anxiety Kylo is feeling melts away as she looks at him. Her hazel eyes are all-powerful. “I don’t hate you at all.”

“I’ve never hated you.”

Those eyes of her widen and she is smiling again. She closes her eyes for a moment, wind sweeping her loose hair, and Kylo simply watches her, bathes in her easy light. “The more and more I sit here, the more I just want balance. The Force is a part of all of us, and the legends describe it as so cut and dry, so black and white. I want to know if you’ll stay here and help me. Even if it means stopping the First Order.”

He almost laughs at her cautious suggestion. “You do know that the First Order tried to have me killed, that at this second, they are probably trying to find me so that they can finish the job?”

She doesn’t. Rey sits a little straighter, eyes immediately drawn to the sky. “We can stop them when they come.”

“They won’t _come_. They’ll blow us up.”

“You mean they’ll build another Starkiller? _Why_? What could they possibly…”

“They want power and control, even if that means control over nothing. There is no rebellion if there is no one to rebel.” Kylo pauses, waits for the thought to sink in for Rey before he continues. “There’s another thing.”

She scoffs. “You mean besides the potential deaths of billions more people?”

“Yes, and it’s worse.”

“Ben, don’t…”

“The Sith.” He searches her face for the fear he feels, but it is tempered. “Have you heard of them?”

“Your…grandfather was one.”

“He was the last one. The Sith ended with Darth Vader and the Emperor before either of us were born. After their deaths is said to be one of the brief times the galaxy has been in balance.”

“But Snoke was there.”

“And me.” He does not shy away from it. “I know that even still the galaxy is tilted towards the Dark. I feel it just as you do.”

“Though I don’t understand why. Snoke is dead. You’re…here with me. Is it just the First Order?”

 _And Gaun_. Though he doesn’t say it—it won’t make sense to Rey why his knight had fallen so deep into the Dark. He can feel the rapid, raw strength of Dark pull at Gaun, relentless, overwhelming him with promises of power and vengeance, of getting Katara back. “They hold more power and control than the Resistance currently does.”

Rey is excited dropping her fruit and going to her knees, hands reaching until they land on Kylo’s forearms. “Then we must help them. We can go to the Resistance. We can help them end this conflict.”

He recoils from her touch. “You say you don’t hate me but you want me to hand myself over to them? They’ll kill me on sight.”

“I wouldn’t let them do that, Ben. But they won’t. Your mother won’t.”

“You don’t know…”

“You do.” Rey grabs his hand and he feels the heat, the connection immediately between them. Her fingers rub in light circles over his palm. “But we can stay here now. Just…would you think about it?”

He doesn’t want to think about that at all, and he feels anger well its way through him at Rey’s push. He’s not ready for that. He doesn’t know if he could ever be ready for it, and he tries to distract himself with the feel of her skin. “I thought we were talking about kissing.”

“Were we?” The light pink in her cheeks is back. “I thought you didn’t think we should kiss.”

He inches forwards until their knees knock and then he is dipping, lightly brushing his lips over the hot, soft curves of her own. He can feel the rebound of his breath when he pulls away, still so, so close. “I’ve never thought that.”

.

.

Night has fallen and she’s asking him again to show her. He is still twisted over the words she spoke to him before, of going to the Resistance, and he immediately shoves it away, boxes and hides it in the deep corners of his mind and tries just to remember her. The feeling he has with her is foreign and intensely compelling. Every part of him wants to touch her, hold her close, and even as they sit by the edge of the firelight, cross-legged and feet away, he still thinks they are too far.

“All these powers you can access through the Light.” He holds eye contact with her, and she is so focused, so ready, breath hitching at every word he says. Kylo smirks. “I could lower my willpower to you. I could let you tell me what to do.”

“I can’t imagine that happening.”

“Me either.” The fire is dancing orange across her tan skin. “I know you’ve done this before.”

Rey slowly nods. “On Starkiller.”

He is so impressed but desperately tries to hide it. Kylo pushes out his chest, trying to prevent his body from naturally slumping. “And what did that feel like?”

“Not…bad. I just wanted to get out. I had to escape and he could help me. I just needed to push him to do it.”

“Your intent was good. You did not need to tap into the Dark Side then. You did not do any harm to the stormtrooper who let you go.”

Her fists clench “But before that.”

His eyebrows raise. He knows what she means, and he does not especially want to talk about it. Kylo can still picture her in that chair, frightened, furious. He remembers carrying her gently onto the ship and the Force rippling through him as her head laid against his chest. “I needed to find Skywalker.”

“You went into my head.” She’s shaking. “You…tried to steal it from me.” Her hands dig at the ground. Kylo fidgets at the sudden change in energy before welcoming the cool familiar hush of dark. Rey moves her right dirty hand to her chest, over her heart before extending it forward. “I can do the same to you, can’t I?”

He feels the tinge of pressure in his head and cringes. There are flashes, images, whipping through his mind too quickly for him to comprehend. “You’ve done it to me.”

“I have.” Her fingers touch his cheek, and Kylo feels the gravel scrape at his skin. Rey’s eyes are red in the firelight, voice low and vacant. “I can do it again. I can do it right now.”

There are screams, blood, fire in Kylo’s mind and he shifts away, but Rey grabs his wrist. “I don’t want you to see…”

“You’re in a desert. You’re wearing your mask. You think this map will finally bring you peace. That killing Luke Skywalker will stop the voices.”

“Stop.” He calls the Force with his voice, and Rey shifts but doesn’t stop her connection. The pressure beats at his brain and he hears the harsh ring of his memories being torn to the surface.

He is back on Jakku. He wants the map and to find Skywalker—not for Snoke or the First Order but for himself. San Tekka is defiant in front of him, and he can’t let him live so he doesn’t. He cuts him down easily, and the other villagers are screaming. He doesn’t have time to clean this up, to interrogate them one by one, to make them forget. He orders their slaughter, feels the hesitation from FN-2187, and goes back to his ship with the Resistance pilot. Their screams are loud and cutting in the night, and he smells the clear ash of blasterfire pervade around him. But with Skywalker dead, he believes, this would be over. The conflict would end and he would be free.

Now he is younger. He is crying under the sounds of thunder and rain and the flap of canvas. He thought it would be different here, that he would be like everyone else but he is like _no one_. They mock him, ridicule him, and he can’t help that it comes so easily. It is unbidden, just there, and maybe it is all Light and maybe it isn’t but he doesn’t know, and why do they think he does?

And he just wants to be normal. Not this. He doesn’t want this, hadn’t asked for it, and he can still hear them berating him, whispering, calling him a _monster…_

“Get out.” He tears her hand from his face, holding back from pushing her away. He is shaken, angry, but Rey is still attached. Kylo still feels her reaching for the Force, his mind, and he grabs her hand back, wrapping it in his own as the panic leaks through him. “Stop, Rey. Rey…Rey!”

She gasps, dropping his hands and wiping at her eyes. Her breathing is ragged. “I’m sorry. I…” She moves to leave, but Kylo uses the Force and restrains her to the ground. She grunts in shock, and Kylo slowly loosens his grip on her body. Her chest is curled in, eyes wide in terror and shame, and he moves to wipe a tear on her cheek. It’s cold, and she pants again at their contact. He knows this feeling. He knows it all too well, and he wants to take it away from her.  The tears fall swiftly. “I’m sorry…I didn’t mean to…”

“Shh.” He pulls gently at her hair, winding the silk strands around his fingers and brings her head to his shoulder. Rey is shaking with sobs. “Those feelings are not yours.”

“They’re yours.” Rey is breathless, motionless against him until she touches his neck. She lifts her head and her eyes are moving over his face, tracing the scar. Rey dips and kisses him, anxious, before leaning her forehead against his own. “You’re not no one. Do you understand me? You’re…”

He breaks her off, once again desperate for the contact of mouth-to-mouth. He is electrified by her, and it is somehow magnified by her willingness to meet him there in the dark. Their connection ripples between them, courses through his muscles and blood until his whole body curves into her. The rush takes over his hearing, eclipses the heat of the fire beside him, and he is then over her, collapsing her back flat on the ground, holding her hips tightly as he kisses her. Rey is small under him, arching up, winding her hands into his hair and down his neck as she murmurs against him. She laughs as his lips moves down to her neck, and it clear and beautiful and ringing.

They kiss for what seems minutes but may be hours, and then sit up, facing the fire, Rey’s back nestled against Kylo’s chest. He has never felt so at ease. He feels, for the first time in a long time, okay. Her breathing is even and quiet, and Kylo leans up to look at her eyes becoming heavy-lidded. “You should sleep.”

She nods before bracing on his shoulders to help her stand. Kylo follows her up, kisses her hand, and then extinguishes the fire with a leftover bucket of water. He moves languidly back to his stone house. The night is humid on the island, and he wastes no time to remove his tunic and loosen the strings of the borrowed trousers. They pool on the floor under him, and he unrolls the thin mattress before laying flat on his back. His thoughts are muted with exhaustion but still do not let him sleep.

He can’t join the Resistance.

Kylo scowls, tenses at the prospect. He can’t go there with her. He can’t be that person.

The humidity and thick, hot air vanishes, and he feels cold, arid. He feels the emptiness corrode at his heart, and he inhales deeply and closes his eyes, trying to hold on to the feeling of Rey against him. Of her openness and willingness to care for him.

“Ben?”

He moves up to his elbow and sees her shadowing the entryway. The moon is directly behind her casting silver light around her. His chest tightens and he watches her open and close her mouth, hesitating. Kylo moves to lay down again and slides until he is half-off the bedroll. Rey moves from the entryway and slowly sits down, back facing him. “I....you don’t mind?”

“Is there an opposite of don’t mind?”

She sniffs and lowers herself down, curling her body so that her back is flushed against his side. “I don’t want to…I’m not…”

“I’m pretty tired.” Though he isn’t. Their connection is crackling as he touches her hair, trails down her neck, but he stiffens when Rey grabs his wrist and moves it to her waist.

He lets her take most of the bedroll and it takes him hours to finally relax and be calm with her body touching his. It is the absolute worst sleep of his life, but when he wakes up, and Rey is then turned towards him, head tucked into his chest, he can’t find any part of him that wishes for something different.


	15. Balance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nerves are real this time, mostly because I could have taken this further and decided not to. Anxious for feedback as always! Enjoy ;)

 “Can I show you something?”

“On your ship?”

“Yes.”

Kylo Ren is acting strangely. His face is perpetually holding an edge of a smile and his back is straight, not curled in. His hands are gloveless when they reach out to her, and she takes one and feels the rush of warmth fill her at his touch.

This all still seems crazy and ridiculous, but she has forgotten the shame and fear somewhere in his arms last night, and Rey trusts him. They walk hand-in-hand through the Lanai village, the Caretakers giving them the same look of disdain though no sign of shock or surprise by how intimate they are now. It is a better reaction than Rey had expected, and she hadn’t really realized she was anticipating a reaction from them at all.

_What would Finn think?_

She’s not sure. On one hand, the former Stormtrooper could understand how someone could switch sides, could rethink their choices. But then again, Finn never had a choice. He was taken and manipulated. He was thrown into an organization he didn’t understand, and how could she convince him that Kylo is the same?

_He isn’t._

She has to remind herself. He was manipulated but he still made the choices. He still killed, still welcomes the Dark, and there’s a small part of her that can just ignore all of that and she hates it. He’s confused and trying, and she wants to be there with him, feels connected and attached to him and maybe it’s the bond or maybe it’s the commonality of not wanting to be alone. But it’s there and it’s dominating. She could do that for him. He could do that for _her,_ but not if he’s Kylo Ren. She doesn’t want Kylo Ren.

He drops her hand when they are both aboard the starship, and then he is moving quickly. Rey is worried, frightened, but then she realizes Kylo is _excited_. He can’t hold back the grin on his face as he comes back with a small, circular stone, and Rey feels it immediately, pushing, tugging her closer and closer. She looks at the stone, of the white star embedded, and reaches for it. Kylo willingly hands her the medallion. “I’ve…seen this before.”

“It’s in one of your books.”

She’s shaking her head. “No…before that. Since I’ve been little.”

He bites his lip and collapses his hand over the medallion and her own grip. “So you can feel it too?”

_Yes._ Rey’s slow to nod, enraptured by the energy suddenly presented to her. She wants to hold the thing to her, let it become a part of her, devour her, but then that velvet whisper is back and clear and _begging_.

_You can’t. You can’t use this power._

Her breathing intensifies, and she is throwing more than giving the medallion back to Kylo Ren. He’s flustered, and he slips the object easily into his pocket. “Rey?”

She can barely hear him, his voice muted, blocked by the own in her head.

_Neither of you can. You are too different, too naive. You are both powerless._

But Kylo is there and he has so much power and is then dragging her to him, hugging her close to his chest and resting his chin on her head. “Don’t listen.”

“It’s so loud.”

He’s stroking her hair, running his hands up and down her back. His voice is deep and soothing, and Rey feels herself tear at the seams. “I thought my grandfather was speaking to me, but it wasn’t him. There are so many promises, Rey. So many _lies._ The Dark is pulling you, and it can be powerful. You can use it, but you have to remember that it’s not as it seems.”

“Snoke lied to you.”

“Yes.”

“And you realize that now but still give yourself to the Dark?”

He pulls away from her so that they can see eye-to-eye. “When you are trying to protect yourself with light, the darkness blinds you more. It is why you are suffering as you are now. The whispers, Rey…” He touches her cheek, and she is sure he does not mean for it to be as intimate as it feels, but it strikes her, pierces her. “What do they sound like?”

“We’ve talked about this before. It’s convincing. It’s…”

“ _Who’s_ speaking?”

“I…I don’t know.”

He is away from her fully now, their bodies no longer touching and she feels cold. “You do. You know. Say it.”

“Me.” She’s shaking and needs to close her eyes, get out the sudden rush of darkness threading through her skin. “It’s only me.” Rey struggles to breathe. She feels weak, like a failure, tainted, and she moves away from Kylo. She wants to run away from all of this and get these thoughts out of her head and away from the man next to her. But she doesn’t. She stays and opens her eyes, hardens her shoulders and tries to pass on the reassurance she doesn’t feel to Kylo Ren. “The text says you can use the Dark Side without corruption. I have to believe that’s true.”

His eyes are glassy, and she senses he wants to argue, but Kylo doesn’t speak. He pulls the medallion back out and hands it to her. “Keep this.”

She grabs his arm before he fully turns away. “Ben, where are you going?”

“I’ll be back.” He kisses her forehead. “I promise.”

.

.

It has called him ever since he set foot on Ahch-To, every time he can actually push Rey away from his mind, which is increasingly less often. The waves are violent around the cave. He thinks to when Rey had discussed the darkness of it and his shock that she willingly brought herself there, but he shouldn’t have been surprised. Kylo thinks back to their bond, to when they had connected and she had told him that she should have been afraid, but she wasn’t. She was here. It was the cave. It was the darkness.

He shouldn’t have been afraid either but standing there, facing the hole littered and wrapped with seaweed and rushing water, he is terrified. He, someone who surrendered and sold himself to the Dark, does not want to face this part of him.

_Go._

It is not Snoke that whispers to him. And it is not the same as what Rey hears. His own darkness has always tempted, pleaded with him and was only enhanced under Snoke’s influence. But the voice is serene and controlled—completely contradictory to himself— and Ren willingly lets it envelop him.

_Go, Ben._

One of the suns is blinding him, and he has to close his eyes before he jumps. The air is quick and whipping, but soon he is crashing in water and he is freezing. It surrounds every part of him, and Kylo can only see the murk of water and blackness.

His hands breach the waterline before his mouth does, and he is gasping, shivering as he swims to the rock shore of the cave. Kylo’s black hair is matted to the back of his neck, slick even as he moves a hand through it to release some of the water. He is drenched and so, so cold, almost numb, and he wants to run away.

_Don’t be afraid._

The shoreline leads to a narrow tunnel, and he ignites the green saber just so he has a chance of seeing in the dark. His footsteps are even and slow, and he can hear the hard _drip_ of water fall around him.

_Remember who you are._

He is Kylo Ren. Once Supreme Leader of the First Order, the most powerful Dark Force user in the galaxy. He is a murderer. He is a monster, and there is a strong echo in his head whispering, yes but another dragging him, calling him.

_Remember._

The emptiness of this place is all-consuming, and he can’t imagine how Rey did not feel alone or afraid because he is feeling all of those things so powerfully. The dark tunnel reveals nothing but a clouded wall, and Kylo disengages the lightsaber with the sudden flood of blue light now in the cavern.

_Remember._

His fingers touch the glass and the memories are piercing. Vader. His grandfather is Darth Vader. He has been lied to, manipulated by his own parents. They told him he was good. His parents are Republic war heroes, his uncle a hero of Light. But there is something dark in him. There is darkness calling and he _knows_ it’s because of that blood inside of him.

Kylo’s breath fogs the opaque wall. “I know what I am.”

The wall is suddenly clear and there is a man in the mask on the other end. He is dark, tall, and Kylo stiffens but does not pull his hand back.

“Grandfather.”

His heart quickens, hurts at the sight of the man across from him, and Kylo wants to recoil away. He has worshiped this man. He thought that by becoming Darth Vader, he wouldn’t have to feel the pain and disappointment of not being a pure, good Jedi. The expectation of his parents’ legacy would be forgotten for another’s.

Vader’s hand is moving to the mask, and soon the dark object is gone to reveal the face of a man Kylo knew too well. Luke Skywalker, clean shaven and too, too young is staring at him, and the dark cloaks of his grandfather are wiped to the light tan of Jedi robes. Kylo moves his hands down, and the image of Luke follows his actions, his steps, mimicking him perfectly. The sight of his uncle brings back too many bad memories, and the rage boils over and Kylo pounds his fist against the clouded wall. The image of Luke vanishes into mist, and Kylo is left with two shadows on the other side. His knuckles are rough and bleeding, and he nearly falls as the shadow gives way to reveal his parents.

_Remember._

He remembers being Ben Solo, but not this torn, shattered young man. He remembers these people and the love they gave him. He remembers wanting to learn to fly because that was what his dad did. He remembers wanting to write well because didn’t his mother write laws?

“Stop!”  The lightsaber attached to his hip is soon in his hand, and he raises it. The shadows immediately vanish into dust and Kylo is left staring at himself. His face is coated in sweat. His whole body is shaking, collapsing, and then there is blue light behind him.

The man is maybe his age, but seems ageless, ethereal. Kylo has never seen this man before and yet…he knows him. He knows him too well.

The ghost says nothing, only nods and Kylo feels like collapsing but he doesn’t. He finds the strength to stand, to look at this figure in front of him and, for once, not feel overwhelmed by doubt and fate and destiny. “I will finish what you started.”

And he does not mean Vader, and he has to wonder if he ever did.

.

.

 

He’s back on his ship, and Rey is there as he expected her to be. What he hadn’t expected though was that she’d be hands and knees deep into his ship’s circuits, looking at the wires with almost awe before peering back at him. She stiffens and wipes the sweat lining her forehead, managing to smear oil across her otherwise pale face. “There you are! Mind telling me where you were for the past hour?”

_Hour?_ It hadn’t felt that long, and Kylo says nothing, only kneels so that they are eye-level and both on the floor before kissing her. They slip together easily—Rey eager and all energy and him feeling so entirely soothed by the heated contact. Her fingers trail down his cheeks, down his neck until they are flushed against his collarbone. She wants to go lower. He wants her to, and he helps her, takes her wrists and guides them under his shirt and to his stomach. Rey pulls back and leans her forehead against his. Their breathing is synced, perfect, and heavy. “Were you afraid?” Her voice is calm and low.

He wants to focus on skin and only that, but he catches her eyes and he knows she deserves this. “I’ve always been afraid. It’s easier to be the monster than defeat it.”

She’s shaking her head and kissing his temple. Her hands shift over his abdomen and his body fidgets unwillingly. “You’re not…”

“I was.” He pauses. She’s waiting for him to say more but he doesn’t know what she wants from him. The feeling is unfamiliar. He thought he knew what Rey had wanted, and he was just as certain that he couldn’t give it to her. Now he…now he wanted to try.

Balance is her. It is them together. It is the feeling of her lips on him, of her fingers winding their way to his hip bones and him hesitating, not knowing. It is him no longer being afraid and kissing her open, vulnerable, letting every part of his mind and body and being be revealed to the girl in front of him and being incredibly _okay_. He is okay, and now that he is okay he wants to be better than okay. He wants happiness. He wants love. He wants _her._

He doesn’t know about the Resistance or the Jedi Order but maybe they can meet somewhere in between. Maybe they can find happiness in the ashes of the First Order, in the unequivocal agreement that the Force is here and it is everything.

He wants to ask her this. He suddenly wants to know if she would agree to this so desperately, but they are both on the floor, the control center of his ship popped open and exposed, her face covered with grease. “Maybe slowly.”

Kylo thinks she is answering his own thoughts, but her eyes are still on his chest, face flushed, and all thoughts of meeting in the middle are lost to the present. “Slowly then.”

He stands quickly, however, and Rey smiles before taking his hand to help her back up. Kylo looks again at the wires on the ground. “Were you sabotaging my ship?”

She raises an eyebrow before kissing him. “I was bored and needed a distraction. The way this ship is programmed, it’s made for…”

He kisses her again, dazzled, dazed by how passionate and utterly weird she is. The metal floor clangs underneath their boots as they shift and back-step deeper on the ship, down the hall and to the small, thin bed. His calves hit the metal bed-frame before he sits and breaks from Rey. She’s in front of him, buns loose, chest rising and falling rapidly. She is red and heated and so, so beautiful. Kylo reaches for the saber on his belt.

Rey twitches, and although he should be offended, insulted, Kylo smirks and rolls the saber on the ground, away from them both. 

The scavenger follows and unhooks her leather belt. It falls with a heavy clamor, but he barely notices as her hands grab the edge of her tunic and pull the grey fabric over her head. And he’s breathless at what’s about to happen. He’s anxious and excited and eager, but the energy is mismatched. Rey’s breath grows hollow. Her arms are crossed over the skin-tight wrap covering her breasts, and she can’t make eye contact.

“Rey…” He stands and touches her shoulders, rubs his hands over her skin, and he does not ask her. He does not do anything but wait and breathe her name, and then she nods. The air around them is lighter, sparked again.

“I’m okay.” She unfolds her arms. “I’m better than okay.”

He bites his lip to stop himself from laughing, and then removes his own tunic. He watches Rey sharply inhale, confused by her reaction to him but not wanting to question it. He is bruised, covered with cuts, and so is she. She is scarred and singed and his fingers brush the uneven parts of her skin.

“I hope that’s not…”

“It’s not from you.” She moves her own hand down his face and shoulder and chest, and Kylo can’t help but think of his dream, his vision. He leans in and they kiss again, all heat and strength and something edging on desperate. He’s again sitting on the edge of his bed, and she climbs over him, knees pinning his sides. Her hands burn against his flesh, and he feels his body caving, moving closer, his mind turning off thought except for _Rey, Rey, Rey._

Rey is struggling to untie the wrappings around her chest and Kylo places his chin over her shoulder so that he can see and slowly uncoils the bandages around her.

For a girl who holds so much power, she is now so vulnerable. He kisses her again, warmly, softly, and moves his lips to her neck and the top of her breast. She jumps so that her collarbone hits his forehead, and he moves back until he is against the wall. He curls her hand in his. “Slowly.”

She nods in agreement, face humming with something foreign though enticing. The tie in front of his pants are undone by her and then his boots and then so is the rest of him. He is soon bare in front of her, and a part of him expects her to worry and run. They are going far. They are going further than he would have expected, but Rey only moves closer and matches his nakedness. The mounds of her breasts are soft against his own body, and he traces the length of her spine until he connects with her hips. Her fingers have found his hair and they are pulling him deeper into her until he is seeing purely stars.

There is no way anyone in the Jedi Order had ever loved. There is no way any of them had experienced this feeling of someone over them and giving themselves fully and openly. They could not say that this is a bad thing. This is everything good, the epitome of everything right and strong and beautiful. And if sacrificing the Light had led him here, if not obeying and following and being a Jedi Knight enabled him to be here, to be with _her_   then, well, he would always welcome the Dark.


	16. Blood

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry for neglecting this story for so long!! Long story short, I was in the process of applying to grad school and that ate A LOT (read: all) of my time. Luckily it was successful so I can get back to all of you :)
> 
> Please enjoy! And so, so sorry again!

Maybe she should feel shameful or disloyal. Maybe she should have some sliver of doubt as she lies next to him and watches the slow, deep breaths rise and fall from his chest. But she doesn’t. She can’t. Her thoughts are swimming of him and his warmth. Of dark hair covering his forehead and cheek and just trying to fight the urge to push it away so she can see his face. She is light, weightless, but somehow cemented to him, grafted to his side and afraid to move. She is stuck and magnetized towards him, her eyes tracing every inch and shadow of his face and neck and chest and hips.

She is also sweaty and achy and entirely confused of what to do now. Does she leave? Does she wait? Does she pretend to be asleep and see what he decides?

The last thought is tempting, though cowardly, and soon she no longer has the opportunity to make decisions as his eyes tiredly open. They are warm, brown, and dazed. Rey feels her heart patter harder.

“You’re awake?” His voice is all rasp and heavy breathing.

She nods. The chords in her throat aren’t strong enough yet.

Kylo glances up and down her frame and timidly lifts his upper body up. “I’m not giving you much space.”

“It’s okay.” They are practically intertwined on the small cot-like bed. She flushes from her own words and moves her legs so they are no longer spread across his. She thinks the warmth of him will diminish, but it doesn’t. It’s true that he is taking up most of the bed. He’s not a small man in any regard.

He tries though, curling his body inwards so that he is flush against the metal wall and adding another inch between them. “How, uh, how are you?”

“Fine.”

“Fine?”

“Good.” She smiles and dares herself to look him in the eye again. And he is there and grinning, and she suddenly does not care about any awkwardness he might feel because she wants to be closer. She moves to him, kisses his lips, and moves a hand down his ribcage. He flexes against her touch and their kiss deepens, his lips crashing harder and harder until she feels like she can no longer breathe. He is over her, muscled arms flanking her sides, hands grabbing her wrists and tugging her closer so they are only hot skin.

And this feels all too normal and natural, as if they have done this a thousand times over though it is only the first time. The feelings of fear and hate towards him seem like a different life. It feels years and decades away—not weeks—and she can’t go back to that. She can’t even imagine it anymore. Her hand is ignited as it moves down his chest. She listens to his heart, his breaths, and the sheer power in him. The Force is strong. It’s combustive between them, and their bond buzzes before Kylo cuts it and leans down to plant a soft kiss on her forehead.

She is flushed though confused by the action. Rey moves to speak and then he kisses her sweetly again. Ben shifts so he is sitting at the end of the small bed. His black hair is sweaty, the curls almost straight. “Don’t you want to train?”

Rey is sore and light-headed and misses his warmth. _No._ “What do you want to do?”

“I could lay on this little bed with you.” He doesn’t turn to look at her. “But that won’t help the Resistance stop the First Order.”

“Wha…what?” She scoots on the thin mattress, unclear of what he had just said and if the afterglow had caused her to imagine it. But she didn’t. Kylo’s face is serious, even. He turns to her again and grabs her hand.

“You’ll help me?”                                                

“Of course, I will.” Rey moves a strand of black hair from his face. “Ben, I’m here with you. That’s not changing.”

“And if they try to have me killed?”

“They won’t.” She knows he means the Resistance. He thinks they will torture him, maim him, kill him. She feels the fear permeate, and it makes her second guess and hesitate. Rey straightens her body and manages to look past the fact that they are both naked. The sheets are thinly wrapped around her waist, but she doesn’t care how much or how little of her skin is covered.  

“Rey…”

“I’ll stop them.” She knows she will. “I would not let them do anything to you. Do you understand me? I won’t. I promise you that. You have to believe me, Ben. You have to…”

“I believe you.” His chest is falling and rising too quickly, and Ben stands from the bed. He finds his pair of grey pants on the floor and replaces them over his legs before grabbing his saber. His shoulders are still tight and high. “I need to meditate. Will you be okay here?”

She only stares and gestures to the belt on the metal ground, her saber still attached. Kylo stifles a laugh and leaves her on the ship alone.

Her body collapses when the starship’s door closes. She is restless though exhausted, squirming and laughing and aching. Rey spreads completely on the narrow cot and focuses on her breathing. It takes minutes for her to calm, to withhold her excitement and then realize she should really shower.

She feels like things are avalanching. Her and Ben. Ben and the Resistance and the Light. She wants that more, has wanted him to find belonging and acceptance and forgiveness even more than she wanted him. And she did, she realizes with an incredibly flush. She had wanted him. And she still does as she lets the cooling water drip down her face and spine in the refresher. Her body is in a weird sort of pain, a loose full soreness that she does not mind at all. Inside she is glowing, radiating a magnitude of joy she has never felt before. She can’t imagine how she would ever feel that way again.

It is everywhere, cascading through her as she finds herself open and exposed to the bond, and the warming embrace of all things Ben Solo come around her. He is happy. He is _beyond_ anything she could ever imagine him feeling though underpinning that is fear and worry and overwhelming doubt.

_It’s okay._  She doesn’t think it will help but she thinks it anyway, lets the beads of water fall down her closed eyelids as she does so. And the doubt is within her too. She hopes, prays to the Maker or whatever above that he’s not doing this because… because…

Rey stops the water and is suddenly cold. A part of her is flattered by the idea but a much bigger portion is unsettled by it. She had tried that before. She had tried to convince him to follow the Light but she couldn’t do that. It wasn’t something that should be convinced but found. Kylo Ren needed to find it within himself.

But she’s getting ahead of herself. She doesn’t know why or how he actually intends to help, and for all her worrying, shouldn’t she just be content at the fact that he _wants to_?

The joy is back in her and she quickly dries herself off before finding her clothes around the small ship. Her face unconsciously flushes as she glances at the small cot, sheets tangled and half-off the actual mattress itself.

Meditation might be necessary for her to actually accomplish anything. She attempts to dry her hair somewhat before determining whether it would be a good idea to meditate with Ben or not.

The thought is ripped from her suddenly. The bond is all open but pure emotion. She can’t see him or hear him, only feel, and the feelings enveloping her were far from the incredible warmth and happiness he had moments ago. She’s stiff in his ship, recognizing the emotions clearly in him. _He’s hurt. He’s afraid._ She had sensed this once before, back when he was first leaving and coming to Ahch-To. Back when he was bleeding out on this very ship.

“Ben, please.” Her own voice is weak. She doubts he could even hear her if they were in the same room. Her brain is all frenetic thought and fear. And inside she is pleading, searching for any sort of sign that he is there and is with her, but she feels nothing. Rey sprints from the shuttle to find him.

Her blood and heart are in her ears as she moves through the island, and she is incredibly grateful that she can feel him, that she is drawn to him. She is so filled with dread and fear and the absolute need to find him festers inside of her until her muscles are raw and ragged.  

There is a pain in her arm and it is _burning_ through her but she knows Ben is in the temple and she is almost there. There’s anxious energy and then fear and hate flooding her, and she does not know why Ben is feeling that way or if it is her own emotions bleeding over in worry.

She is so, so close, yards away until a body hits her and she is dragged to the ground. She collides with dirt and leaves and mud, and she feels rabid. The bond is crackling and she senses Ben’s fear. Rey crumbles, twitches under the pure weight of his emotion and it is then magnified, incredibly potent with her own. She doesn’t remember what it’s like to be calm or feel safe. And she is being attacked again. This man is attacking her, holding her down, telling her to…to…

“Rey, it’s me! It’s Finn!”

That doesn’t make sense. It can’t be Finn. No one else was here besides her and Ben and the Caretakers. And…

And…

“Finn?”

She is still all maddened energy, still wanting to get to Ben, though now her legs are achy and bruised. Her friend is the antithesis of everything she feels. Finn is all smiles and relieved laughter. He touches her hair and cheek and is soon pulling her up and into a hug. “I’ve found you! You’re safe! I thought he may have hurt you or maybe…”

She stiffens in his hold and her body soon runs cold. There is concern in his face and eyes, and Rey now remembers how she left him. The apology wants to come out, but she is being dragged to Ben Solo. “Where is he?”

.

.

He knows this man. He has tortured him. He has wanted to kill him. And the reflex of all of those things are there and itching to get out. He stares down the pilot, saber on his hip, and doesn’t let himself move.

“I didn’t think it would be this easy.”

He is staring down the barrel of the blaster and he wants to argue and prove to this cocky bastard that it _isn’t_. That with a snap, a twitch, he could choke this man and make him crumble to the ground in absolute agony. He could make this man writhe. He has done it before. And he expects the voice to beg him to do it again. To coax and build the rage in him but it never comes. The voice is dead. Ben had killed it to save Rey.

“Do it then.” His voice carries harder, firmer than he thought it would. The Resistance pilot fidgets but his blaster arm stays level at his head. Kylo does not know why he hesitates on the trigger. His mind had been distracted, racing with everything Rey until this man had breached his meditation. He barely had time to stand before Poe Dameron was in front of him with a weapon targeted on his face.

“Where’s Rey?”

Kylo bites back the emotion wanting to spill at her name. He is terrified. The fear is wrapping through him as his nightmare becomes full and real. This is everything he had feared and _knew_ would happen if he were to set one foot on Resistance soil.

Poe shakes the blaster. “What did you do to her?!”

“Nothing.” He grinds his teeth at the implication. “How did you find us?”

“Shut up!” His voice is venom and misplaced emotion. Kylo can’t place it. He hesitates to approach, to even move an inch towards the other man. Poe is shaking with rage and fury. He is bursting with a passion that would make a Sith proud.

“Did I scar you that badly?” Kylo cannot understand the potency of his pain. “Have you never been broken like that before?”

“Shut…”

“I have.” Kylo watches Poe’s fingers twitch over the trigger. He is a breath away of being shot in the chest and both of them know it. “What I did to you is not even a footnote in what I have experienced.”

“No one asked what you experienced, Ren. Where is Rey?”

“Kill me. I know you want to.” He is fascinated, confused why the hot-tempered pilot is not taking the bait. “Do it.”

“You would like that, wouldn’t you?” Dameron scoffs at their stalemate. His uniform is ripped, bloody, and there is still ash on his face.

_Something happened._ Kylo flexes his fingers. There is joy in watching the Resistance burn—he doubts that will ever go away—but the dread is overwhelming and unstoppable. “Why are you…”

_“Ben!”_

He does not know if it is the bond or her actual screams, but he turns desperately looking for Rey. Dameron jumps at the sudden movement and the blaster is fired, the impact hitting Kylo squarely in his arm and making him collapse to the ground under the burning pain.

Kylo wants to fight back but he knows that is a death sentence, maybe not now, but Rey would never look at him again. The wound on his arm is hissing, and Dameron is walking towards him, blaster digging into the top of his scalp.

He could still get out. Kylo knows this. He is safe, secure, but for some reason Poe Dameron is crying. The pilot falls to the ground, the blaster forgotten at his side, and Ben does not know what to do. He falls backwards and supports himself on his good arm, his breath quaking with adrenaline and pain.

“I can’t.” The pilot’s voice is cracked, muted. “Your face. Your face.”

Ben only watches as Dameron rages. He punches the stone floor of the temple screaming, crying in frustration in the shadow of the ruins. And Ben knows he should probably run. He should put distance between him and this man who hated him but he is stuck staring.  _Something is wrong. Something terrible has happened._

And then the moments click. The hesitation. The crying. The Resitance pilot weak at the knees and not taking his head immediately. Ben internally panics. He searches through the Force but can only feel Rey rushing towards him.

And he pushes her away, pushes everything and all things away looking for this other woman. And there is wetness on his cheeks and fury and absolute pain when he senses nothing.


End file.
